A Promise of Home
by Nicole Harpe
Summary: Beth receives word that after eight years, Al is coming home from Vietnam, but their reunion doesn't go as smoothly as they hoped.
1. Beginning a New Beginning

**A Promise of Home

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**

This Quantum Leap™ story utilizes characters that are copyright © by Bellasarius Productions and Universal Studios. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan fiction story is written solely for the entertainment of the readers and is not for profit. All fiction, plots, and original characters are the sole creations of the author.

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_Beginning a Brand New Beginning_

"Oh, boy." Leaping into women was always trouble, but this had to be one of the worst. Sam Beckett leaped into the ladies room, combing long red hair at the mirror and in the middle of a conversation.

"'Oh, boy?' So I think he's cute. Just because I'm married doesn't mean I'm dead, Jane."

Sam looked at his friend. She was about 50 years old, but had a spark in her eye that let Sam know she made sure life was fun. They were both nurses and apparently, his name was Jane and nurses wear name tags. A quick glance down and he discovered his name was Jane O'Neill. That was good. He knew his name. Nurse friend was Francine Eisenberg.

"No, no, Francine. I didn't mean that you shouldn't look at men."

"That's for sure. Dr. Cavanaugh is simply the most gorgeous doctor on staff and you, dear heart, are certainly free as the breeze. Go for it."

"Uh, uh, yeah. Dr. Cavanaugh. Maybe we should get back to work." Sam said a short prayer, hoping he wasn't there to get Jane together with Dr. Cavanaugh.

"I guess you're right." She lifted her skirt and pulled down her slip. Sam diverted his eyes trying to hide his discomfort. "Okay, Janie, lets go." Sam tagged along with Francine and ended up at a hospital nurses' station. Francine pulled a chart. "Listen, Janie, I took care of Milnes this morning. He's yours now." She handed Sam a file. "Here's his chart. See if he's had his meds and you talk to him."

Sam took the chart. At last, something he knew about and something he could prepare for. The patient named Kenneth Milnes, hospitalized for a re-amputation of his left leg, was a Vietnam vet who lost a foot when he stepped on a landmine. Now, three years later, on August 2, 1975, he was recovering from more surgery on the leg. Sam muttered out loud, "Vietnam, poor guy."

Francine heard him, "Yeah, but at least he came home." She glanced toward the footsteps heard down the hall. The head nurse was coming. Francine pointed discreetly at the brunette who went into a patient room. "She's still waiting for her husband. I got to tell you, Jane, your friend's losing out on life. None of our boys are still alive in Vietnam. She's such a nice person. What a shame." Francine picked up a chart and left Jane alone.

Sam kept reading the Milnes chart, hoping to avoid making any mistakes. He didn't hear the head nurse until she said, "Hi, Jane. You have the Milnes chart there, don't you?" Sam looked up and his eyes immediately went to the name tag the woman wore. It startled him and looking into her face, he gasped. "Oh, my God, Beth, Beth Calavicci."

Beth started to laugh. "Jane, Jane O'Neill. Don't get dramatic on me. I only want to know if he got his meds yet."

Stumbling through the chart Sam said, "Not yet, Beth." When he finally looked up, he couldn't take his eyes from the nurse's pretty, yet sad face. It took concentration to break away. When he did, he saw that she still wore a silver MIA bracelet with "Lieutenant Albert Calavicci" engraved on it. Whispering in disbelief, "Al's not home, yet. It's 1975. He should be home."

Fingering the band of remembrance Beth smiled gently, "He will be. Are you okay?"

He had trouble catching his breath. "I'm sorry, Beth. It's just that reading this chart made me think about Al." A locked cart behind him offered the medications he needed and like every good nurse, the key was attached to his wrist. Preparing for Milnes turned out to be easier than he thought.

The depth of feeling Beth had for her husband reflected in her smile, "When you meet my Al, you're going to love him."

Sam was still thrown by **_this_** meeting. "But, it's 1975. They're all home."

Beth quickly put up a protective front. "Please don't start that again. I know Al's coming back. If I told you how I knew, you'd have me whisked off to the psych ward. Al will come home." A sigh followed a brief private recollection of that night at the bungalow when a stranger told her the missing pilot would be returning to her arms. "Make sure Milnes gets his pain meds." Beth walked away and Sam felt his own heart break. Why wasn't Al home from Vietnam by 1975?

The chance for an answer came almost immediately. A squeal and a flash of white announced the arrival of a holographic Al Calavicci. The dark eyed Admiral quietly whispered, "Give that patient his medicine and then let's go somewhere we can talk." As Sam carried the tiny container of pills to the room across from the station, he saw his friend watching his young bride walking down the hall. He heard the admiral whisper softly, "She's so beautiful."

Meds were taken and noted in Milnes' chart. A supply closet sat down the hall. Sam spoke under his breath, "This way." Al was pale and his energy level was negligible, but he followed his friend into the small room. Sam's agitation ignited too many questions. "Al, what's happening here? It's 1975 and you're not home. Why not? Where are you and why does she think you're still in Vietnam? What the hell is going on?"

Sarcasm seemed the best way to answer the accusatory questions. "Gee, Sam, nice to see you, too. In case you're wondering, you're Lieutenant Jane O'Neill. You're a nurse at Balboa Naval Hospital."

The agitation hadn't abated. "I know that. Beth is the head nurse."

"Yeah, and I know that." The Admiral looked at him with a glare that spoke volumes which he opted not to say. Instead, he told Sam, "Jane is Beth's best friend. They've shared Beth's and my house for the past two years."

"Why am I here? I thought Beth and you were together again. She waited for you, didn't she?"

He rubbed his temple tying to relieve the increasing headache. "Yeah, she waited, but there are always after effects, Sam."

"So, I'm here for Beth?"

"This time," The catch in the Admiral's voice was painful to hear, "Ziggy thinks you're here for me. Personally, I'm not so sure."

Sam's agitation had him spewing question after question, "How can I be here for you? You're not even here. Where the hell are you? Why aren't you with Beth? Did you run out on her? The POWs came home in 1973, Al. Where are you?"

It was more of a statement than a question when he said, "Did you just hear yourself?" Sam was confused. "POWs came home. I wasn't a POW."

Sam was even more confused now. "But, I saw you in Maggie's photograph. You were there when Tom's squad failed on that mission."

When a subject became uncomfortable, Al talked in circles. "You hear, but you don't listen. I wasn't a POW."

It took a few seconds of thought. "You were missing in action. You were MIA, not a POW."

"There are over 2,000 Vietnam MIAs still unaccounted for today, in my time."

"But where are you, where is . . ." searching to avoid more confusion, Sam continued, "Bingo right now?"

"Right now?" He punched at the handlink and bashed it against the heel of his hand. "Right now, I'm waiting for a transport plane in Tokyo. I'll be in San Diego tomorrow morning around 9:30."

"Beth doesn't know it yet?" A smile crept over his face as Al shook his head. "I get to be here when you come home. Al, this is great."

Al's despair was evident in his voice and posture. "Yippee."

An absolute chill traveled down Sam's spine, "What's wrong?"

Without looking up from the handlink, a habit he had when faced with difficult conversation, the weary man barely whispered, "You're here to keep Beth from leaving me after I get back."

"She waits eight years for you and then walks out? That doesn't make any sense." Sam became suspicious. "Are you sure I'm here for you? Remember the last time we met up with Beth during a leap? Did you check any other scenarios?"

Al always learned from his mistakes. Since that horrible leap into Jake somebody, he never failed to run scenarios for everyone Sam might encounter. The accusation hurt. "Not fair. I've run scenarios on everyone Jane comes in contact with for the next 120 hours. This leap is for me and I'm not sure I want you to succeed."

"You're not making sense. I thought you and Beth were the perfect couple. Isn't that what you told me? 'If only she'd known I was alive, my life would be perfect.' I can't keep track of all your love affairs. What do you want from me?" He heard his words and hated himself for saying them.

The Admiral finally looked up and the daggers in his eyes aimed directly at Sam. "Forget it. When you're willing to listen, I'll be back." He practically slammed his code into the handlink and disappeared.

"Damn, this is going to be hard." Sam exited the supply closet not sure how to handle his friend. Al's moodiness was legendary. Rather than talk out his inner battles, he clung to them for dear life. It was a pattern formed by years of having no one to depend on except himself. For Al, accepting generosity of spirit from friends was far more difficult than fighting his demons alone.

At the moment, Sam had to be Jane O'Neill, Beth Calavicci's best friend. Problem was Sam Beckett was Al Calavicci's best friend. This was going to be very, very awkward.

Back at Quantum Leap, Al walked out of the Imaging Chamber fully expecting the project shrink lying in wait for him. It was a relief to him that the Control Room was empty - save for Gooshie. Saying nothing, he dropped the handlink on the console and entered the elevator. Al was the only human being involved in the project who had full recall of all the time lines Sam created. Even Sam couldn't remember all the changes, but Al, for whatever reason, a glitch in the system, an error in the Imaging Chamber design, his own uncanny aptitude for detail, Al remembered it all and, unlike Sam, had to survive the repercussions.

The Admiral's head hurt. Sleep for the past month or more had been minimal so his headache was very old by now, but this leap was going to give him more pain than he had in decades.

Sam was writing notes in a chart, grateful that he understood Jane's job well enough not to do any damage to the patients. Still, he was equally grateful that the hospital was filled with professionals who could take over in case he felt uncomfortable making a decision. His natural curiosity and interest in medicine kept his eyes focused on the chart in front of him. Concentration snapped though when Beth tapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, kid. Time to go home. You don't have to impress the head nurse, you know."

"I heard she was a real witch."

"Oh, she is and she's getting hungry and older by the minute. Get your stuff. Its time to move."

A few minutes later, Beth was behind the wheel of a convertible heading home. Sam sat beside her, staring alternately at the scenery and Beth. Al's taste for the flamboyant was absolutely denied in this woman. Beth certainly was beautiful, but her beauty grew from her soul, not just her dark brown eyes and pure complexion. A recognizable noise clued Sam into Al's appearance behind him. Hoping to remind Al of the depth of his wife's devotion he asked, "Beth, what made you fall in love with Al?"

Beth's face reacted to the question with a quizzical expression. "What brought that on?"

Sam glanced at the back seat. "Oh, I don't know."

Al wasn't pleased with the intrusion. "Sam, let it alone. That's between me and Beth."

But Beth wasn't going to let it alone. Most people didn't talk to her about Al and she missed telling stories about her knight in slightly dented armor. "Why did I fall in love with Al? He was so different from the other jet jocks. He's got beautiful eyes and his eyelashes are so long, well, you've seen his picture. And I love his voice. It's deep and has just a little gravelly sound in it, but sometimes it's real high. And he has this laugh that cuts through everyone else's laugh." The smile on her face brought her a moment of peace. Her imagination had him alive and she felt him there with her, at least she thought she did. "Oh, and he's smart. Did I ever tell you that he's a genius?"

Sam lifted an eyebrow for Al to see. "Bright maybe, but a genius?"

Talking about her husband lit up the nurse's face and she looked like a high school girl talking about her first crush. "Certified and everything. The Navy tested him. Al's IQ is 157."

The fact stunned the physicist. "Really? 157?"

Al chuckled at Sam's surprise. Al murmured, "Makes you wonder about the statistical validity and reliability of the tests, doesn't it?"

Beth kept right on talking. "But he's not what you expect a genius type to be, you know, shy and awkward."

Al found his opening. "Gee, sound like anyone you know?"

Sam whispered "Funny."

"Al's got the best sense of humor. He can make me laugh at the littlest things. No one knows how to have more fun. And imagine this - he loves to dance and he's got the romance thing down pat. I never had any man pay attention to me the way Al does. Oh, and his hair I wish the Navy regs allowed for longer hair. He hates it, but it's soft and so curly. When we make love,"

Al muttered, "Oh God. Don't Beth."

Plowing on through the unheard admonition, Beth confessed, "I love to run my fingers through his hair. He likes it too, but he won't admit it."

Sam was composed in front of Beth, but his eyes were flashing with all the new ammunition Beth was spoon feeding him. "Al sounds a little too perfect to me."

The car waited at the stoplight. Beth threw her head back and laughed out loud. "Perfect? I don't think so. He brags maybe a little too much, but he never lies. And he thinks he's God's gift to women, but he's as harmless as they come."

Sam wanted to laugh at that comment. It had been Sam's feeling that Al was more talk than action and Beth just confirmed it. Looking back at Al, Sam admitted. "He's one of a kind."

"Janie, he's already survived so much. His childhood reads like a Dickens novel. His mother abandoned him. His father died. His sister was born with Down syndrome. Then she died. It's more than a child should have to live through."

Al hated stories about his childhood. "Sam, I'm not hanging around for this. I'll see you later." He vanished into white light without telling Sam why he had shown up in the first place.

Sam knew Al had been orphaned, but now he was Jane. "Really? Must have been rough."

Beth kept going, revealing secrets Al never had intentions of sharing with anyone, even Sam. "The orphanage where he was dumped was pretty bad. They labeled him incorrigible and tried to get the juvenile authorities to take him. He used to run away a lot. He kept trying to find his sister. She got sent to an institution, a real hell-hole. God knows how he managed to get an education. It's a good thing he's smart. That's what saved him. Can you imagine how smart he would have been if he had a loving home, parents who cared for him? A mind like his needed encouragement. He got punished for it."

Remembering his own Norman Rockwell childhood, Sam had trouble understanding why anyone would punish someone for being bright. "That doesn't make sense."

Beth knew these private facts were painful for Al and he told no one except her of his tormented childhood, but now she needed to talk, to make this good friend of hers understand who this missing man was and maybe then convince Jane that if anyone would come home, it was Al. "It doesn't make sense to punish someone for being bright, but I guess when you house a couple of hundred kids, you need some kind of order. Thing is, he was neglected and abused. It's amazing he turned out to be kind and good."

Sam's comprehension turned off after hearing Al was neglected and abused. "Al was beaten?"

"He doesn't like to talk about it much. From what I could get from him, most of the nuns were really kind. One especially, Sister Benignus used to tell him he was going to do great things, but a few used to hit a lot of the kids. When he was 10, he ran away and when he got sent back, the mother superior beat the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet. She really gave it to him. She took away his shoes. He was only allowed to wear them when he went to school. It was a way to keep him from running. Then they took away all his books and reading privileges. Can you imagine? They punished him by not letting him read. He wasn't allowed to talk. A couple of times, they wrapped him up tight in sheets like a mummy so he wouldn't sneak off. On the weekends, they left him like that. He was so small he ended up with pressure sores. That's when Sister Benignus got fed up. She pulled him from there and placed him in another orphanage."

Sam's stomach churned with the picture Beth painted of Al's life. "That's child abuse. How could they get away that?"

"No one cared too much for older orphans. They weren't adoptable." Realizing she probably told Jane more than Al would want her to know, Beth changed the subject. "You're going to love him, Janie. He's this little guy who could never be ordinary even if he grew up with the Cleavers. Al is so cute with the best chocolate brown eyes this side of heaven. Anyway, he is a very complicated, very wonderful man."

"I guess you love him, then, huh?" Sam smiled.

"How could you tell?" Another stoplight gave Beth a chance to look at Jane. Her voice took a softer quality, "There was a time a few years ago when I thought he was dead and I even started dating a guy, a lawyer, but I found out Al was still alive and I had to hold onto the thinnest thread of hope he would come home to me. I have to admit, Janie, the thread is getting pretty frayed." The car behind them honked and Beth rolled her eyes. So the light turned green. Give her a chance to put the car into gear.

Sam knew Al would be in Beth's arms in less than 24 hours, but he wasn't going to do anything to spoil the surprise. "Beth, if you believe Al is coming home, then he will. I have a feeling about that husband of yours. I think he's alive."

"That makes two of us, then." Beth turned the corner. They were half a block from the house when Sam noticed a car in front of their address. Beth's face blanched.

"What's the matter?" He looked at Beth and then the car. "Someone you know?"

"That's a Navy vehicle." She tried to cover her anxiousness. "Wonder what they want?"

Sam wanted so much to tell her, but all he could provide was support. "Probably nothing at all." Beth said nothing. She pulled the car into the driveway. As she got out of the car, she moved toward the back door. "Beth, they're at the front."

"They can knock." Beth had a disappearing act almost as good as Al's. Sam followed her inside.

"I'm going to let them in."

"No, Janie. Not yet. Give me a minute."

Sam put an arm around the frightened young woman. "Listen, you go to the bedroom and come out when you feel you can, I'll let them in and we'll wait for you."

"Thanks. It's probably nothing at all. All this talk about Al is making me . . . They're here to tell me they found his body." She gave Sam a hug and didn't let go. Sam could feel her body shaking with fear. He wanted to tell her there was no reason to be afraid. Beth finally pulled away and slipped into the house.

Sam walked through the living room and looked over at the fireplace to see if Al's picture was still there. It was and next it was the Pulitzer photo that Maggie Dawson had taken the day Tom Beckett's life was saved by Al's sacrifice. Sam opened the door and found a Navy officer about to ring the bell; his hat properly tucked under one arm. He looked official and foreboding. Sam knew Al was alive, but even he was feeling afraid. "Hello. May I help you?"

"Good afternoon. I'm Captain Roberto Velez. Are you Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Calavicci?"

"No. I'm her roommate Jane O'Neill."

"Is the Lieutenant Commander in?"

"Yes, Captain Velez. Please come in and sit down." Sam escorted the handsome captain into the living room. "Beth is in her room. She'll be out in a few minutes. Please have a seat." The captain smiled warmly and sat on the couch. Sam asked, "May I offer you anything? Coffee?"

"No, thank you, Miss O'Neill. I'll just wait for Lieutenant Commander Calavicci."

Sam didn't want to pry, but he was Sam. This guy was here about Al. He felt a responsibility to pry. "Do you have news about Al? Lieutenant Calavicci?"

While trying his best to be the professional career military, Velez let a small smile pop briefly before he said, "I'd like to speak to the Lieutenant Commander first."

"Certainly. I'll see if I can speed her up any." Sam practically ran to the bedroom. He knocked and opened the door a crack. "Beth? Can I come in?" Without waiting for any response, he peeked inside and entered. Beth was sitting on the floor in the corner of her bedroom. Sam walked over to her with a huge smile on his face. He put his hand out to help her up. "Go talk to him. It's all right."

"Al's alive?"

His hand still stretched in front of her. "He didn't say, but go talk to him."

With Sam's help, Beth pulled herself to her feet and straightened her skirt, more than a little embarrassed. "Come with me, okay?"

"Try keeping me away." That was the truth too, Sam never imagined he would be privy to this moment in Beth's life and he wasn't going to miss it for the world.

When they reached the living room, Sam saw that Al came to witness the moment as well. The Admiral stood in the shadows, his hand rubbing his face. Captain Velez rose when Beth entered. Sam introduced them. "Captain, this is Beth Calavicci. Beth, Captain Roberto Velez."

Beth saluted, "Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Calavicci, sir."

The captain returned the formal salute. "Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. May we sit down?" Beth sat next to Velez on the couch. Sam moved toward his holographic friend and sat in a chair near him. "I have some news for you, some very good news." Tears started running down Beth's face. "Lieutenant Albert Michelangelo Calavicci has been found alive."

Sam was practically jumping out of his skin. He looked up at Al and didn't understand why his face was sad and melancholy. His questions were spoken to Beth, but meant for the Admiral. "Are you okay? Did you hear what he said?"

Needing to hear it again, Beth whispered, "Al is alive."

Sam pushed the conversation. "Don't you want to know when he'll get home?"

Her brain was overwhelmed with the enormity of the news. "Of course, when will he come home?"

"Lieutenant Calavicci is on his way here to San Diego right now. He will be arriving at Balboa tomorrow morning at nine thirty."

"Tomorrow? When did you find him?"

Captain Velez told the story explaining it to Beth in heroic terms. "He was found at a detention center 12 days ago along with another sailor."

Al muttered, "Detention center. That's a load of crap."

Beth was a confusing mess of emotions. It was painfully obvious she didn't know what to feel, "Is he all right? I mean, is he hurt or anything?"

"I have limited information regarding his medical status. Both men will need medical attention, but I understand your husband is ambulatory and doing pretty well considering how long he was incarcerated."

Al's hand pressed against his forehead trying to push all the memories back into the hiding place he left them decades before. "That's a lie. When I got home, I weighed 87 pounds and couldn't sit up on my own."

Sam acted on Al's prompt. "Are you sure he's okay?"

"That's what my report indicates, Miss O'Neill."

Al walked to the corner of the room. "The report is a damn lie. Sam, I was in the hospital for six months when I came home and I wasn't really okay until another five months after that. His report is screwed up." The growing headache was almost beyond bearable. "Dwight Robertson walked out of Nam. I didn't. The Navy must have got our names mixed up." His anger was building. "Now it starts to make some sense. She was expecting me to be okay. Damn it. Damn it!" and he was gone.

Sam moved closer to Beth. "Thank God, he's coming home, Even if he's in not so good a condition. He's home and you can help make him healthy again."

"Captain Velez said he was fine. Al is coming home tomorrow and he's fine." The tears were pouring from her eyes. "Jane, I can't believe it." Beth grabbed Sam and her tears finally found a voice. She held Sam with all her might, her tears filled with joy. Eight years of doubt and pain exploded from her. Sam unexpectedly found himself crying too. Al was coming home. Five years had passed since Tom Beckett survived because of Al's sacrifice. Now, the horror of those years was over for Al and for Sam, too. Clenched in each others arms, Al's two dearest friends rejoiced in his homecoming.

Captain Velez let them cry a bit. He stood up and walked to the fireplace, "I am very honored to have received this assignment. I know of Lieutenant Calavicci through this photograph." He pointed to Maggie's last picture. "He inspired a lot of men. It's great he gets to come home."

Beth wiped her eyes and laughed. "He's coming home. Jane, he'll be home tomorrow." Suddenly the reality of the time frame hit her. "Oh, no. I have to get the house ready. I have to get his clothes out. Al is very particular about how he dresses. Things have to be ready for him."

"Why don't you hold off a little. Al may have to stay in the hospital for awhile."

Sam's words made sense and Beth nodded. "Okay, you're right. I'll just get a couple of pairs of khakis out and maybe I can buy him some new shirts. Let's go to the store, Jane. I want to get him some new things."

Captain Velez started toward the door, "Well, I think you have some plans to make, The Navy will send a car and driver for you tomorrow at nine bells."

Beth took Velez's hand. "Thank you, Captain. Thank you very much. I won't forget you." She gave him a little kiss on the cheek and closed the door behind him. Turning back to Sam, "I'm too excited to eat dinner, Jane. Would you go with me to the store? You have such great taste. I have to get him some new clothes."

He didn't want to ruin her joy. Al was coming home battered and needing a lot of medical attention. New shirts wouldn't be needed. "How about getting something new for you to wear when you see him? I bet he'll like that even better than a new shirt."

"They sent a Captain here! That's amazing. Al's coming home is going to be a huge thing for the Navy." She started pacing. "I don't know what to do. I can't think straight."

Sam took her hands in his, "Then let me do the thinking. Let's go looking for the prettiest dress we can find,"

"I'm so glad you get to meet him now. You're really going to love him. He's the best."

The smile Sam wore was incredibly real. "Al is the absolute best there is." He hugged Beth again, "And he's got the best taste in wives."


	2. Wishes Aren't Horses

**A Promise of Home**

**

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**This Quantum Leap™ story utilizes characters that are copyright © by Bellasarius Productions and Universal Studios. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan fiction story is written solely for the entertainment of the readers and is not for profit.All fiction, plots, and original characters are the sole creations of the author.

* * *

**Wishes Aren't Horses**

They spent the evening trying dresses on Beth, finally settling on a red spaghetti strapped sun dress that really showed off her figure. Back at the house, Sam made a couple of sandwiches while Beth put her outift away. She came out of the bedroom holding a special piece of jewelry, a locket she planned to wear with her new dress. She showed it to Sam. "I'm going to wear this tomorrow. Isn't it beautiful?"

The locket was delicately engraved in Italian." Sam held the priceless little heart while Beth told him, "It was his last night home before he left on his second tour. He gave me the locket and we had one hell of good time."

Innocent that he was, Sam asked, "What did you do?" Beth shot Sam a glance that reeked of Al, "Oh, sorry." He smiled, "Maybe sorry isn't the right word."

Beth smiled back, "As I was saying, he gave me this locket."

A tiny scroll of lettering spiraled around the edge. Sam read with very bad pronunciation, "'I cavi della strada di voi.' That's a lot for one locket. I don't speak Italian. What does it mean?"

Taking the heart back Beth sighed, "'the road leads back to you.' It's a line from **_Georgia_**. Don't you think it will look perfect with my new dress?"

This leap was getting harder and harder. Sam had only sketchy details from Al, but one important fact had been dropped in his lap. Al was not coming home whole and with each passing minute, Beth was remembering the young pilot who went off to war and forgetting he was now a war weary prisoner held captive for years. Sam loved her excitement, but he knew he had to prepare her for the reality of Al's return. "Beth, I really hope everything will be wonderful when you see Al tomorrow, but I have a feeling he's not in such good condition. I mean, he's been MIA for eight years. I can't imagine anyone going through all that and being fine. Velez said he was okay, but he may not be as healthy as you think."

"Why do you keep saying things like that?"

Because he knew the truth and just wanted her to know as well. He decided to tell her, "Maybe I'm too much of a realist. I want him to come home to you healthy and happy as if the past eight years never happened, but you and I both know they did. That kind of experience has got to change a man. It's changed you, too."

Beth heard Sam's words, but didn't bother to listen. "No, no. Al's fine." She started out of the room.

"Come back here. You need to eat something."

Beth walked back in the room. "I guess I should." Sitting at the kitchen table, she took a deep breath to try and calm down. "This is a miracle. He's been gone for eight years. I wonder if he looks any different. Maybe his hair will be longer. I hope so. I love his curly hair."

"He's probably a lot thinner. He might even be frail. I doubt he was fed very well." Sam put the sandwiches in front of them and sat down. "I hear it can take a long time to get used to repatriation and Al's been gone eight years. I doubt his system will even tolerate regular food."

Beth took a bite of the sandwich. "I'm acting like a teenager on prom night instead of a nurse. My stomach is tied into more knots." They silently ate more of their dinner. The naievete on her face didn't change, but she told Sam, "Jane, you may think I haven't heard a word you've been saying about Al, but I have. Right now, I can't believe anything other than he's in perfect condition. I have to have some time here where my fairy tale is true. You know, **Someday My Prince Will Come**? Well, my prince is coming tomorrow and tonight I'm Snow White."

Her gentle, sweet explanation made all the sense in the world. Sam had to hug her. "Al found his one true love in you, Beth. You're the reason he's alive. He loves you more than he loves anything and now I know why. You're wonderful."

"So are you. I'm so glad you moved in here,"

Sam could feel tears falling from Beth's eyes. He pulled back and joked, "Hey, you're getting me all wet. Finish eating and try to get some sleep. You want some warm milk?"

"Warm milk? Yuckola." Sam laughed wondering who came up with the silly word first. Beth told him, "I'll eat the sandwich, but no warm milk. There's a lot to do yet. I have to get some of Al's clothes out even if they don't fit him. He has to know they're here waiting for him. I have to know it, too. So there's laundry to do. I have to get clean sheets out to change the bedding in the morning."

He wanted to tell her not to worry, that Al would be spending the next night and six months more of nights in the hospital, but the image of Snow White waiting for her Prince was still in his mind's eye. His own emotions were conflicting. Al had to help him on this one and Al chose to disappear hours earlier. Hoping that his holographic friend would seek him out if he were alone, Sam announced, "Beth, I want to go for a walk. Do you mind?"

Beth was humming her Disney tune. "No. In fact, I'd kind of like a little private time, too. Be careful."

"Okay, Mom." Sam gave her one last quick hug and walked outside of the bungalow. He started down the street trying to sort out the problems he was likely to find. About a block from the small home, he saw the Imaging Chamber door open and Al came to his side. Sam scolded, "Where the hell have you been?"

He just didn't want to hear it. "If I had a dollar for every time you've asked me that, I could retire."

The time traveler was miffed. "Al, this is really hard. Beth thinks you're going to run down the steps of that plane tomorrow morning, pick her up in your arms, kiss her till you both drop and then go make love for a few days or more. She isn't ready at all for what you told me."

"I know it, Sam. I wasn't ready either. I figured nothing could be better than coming home. It would have been better for both of us if she met a body bag."

The trime traveler was still miffed. "That's a pleasant picture. Al, she's going around the house singing **Someday My Prince Will Come**."

For the first time during this entire leap, Al smiled. It was a warm smile as a cherished memory floated back. "Beth loves Disney movies. I think we sat through **Dumbo** three times one night and she cried each time." The recollection put an easy calm on his weary shoulders, "Then she sang the songs over and over. She's got a pretty voice, Sam. I could listen to her for hours." Al tried to jar the thoughts of his happiness out of his mind, but he had to talk about Beth to someone and Sam was the best person as well as the only person available. "What do you think of her, Sam?"

Questions like that were usually hard to answer, especially if you had to fabricate a story, but in this case, the truth was easiest and exactly what Al wanted to hear. "She's wonderful. She's so pretty and smart. I'm really going to like her, when I meet her, I guess in 1985."

"If you meet her." Al played with the handlink.

Sam hated having to drag information out of Al. It occurred most often when Al was uncomfortable and this situation had to be one of the most uncomfortable he'd ever experienced. "Okay, I know this is hard on you, but exactly what am I supposed to do here and why does it have anything to do with my meeting Beth in 1985?"

"Do remember meeting Beth?"

In all honesty, "Other than during that leap, no. I figured it's the Swiss cheese thing."

"It's not." The next words stopped in his throat and he had to spit them out one at a time. "You never meet her because we got divorced the year after I got home."

Sam's heart stopped beating and only when it decided to come back to life did he get the strength to say, "Al, I've never seen anyone so much in love in my life. She thinks the world revolves around you. This woman really has your number, too. She is not blind to your few but very real faults." It was an attempt to lighten the mood that didn't work. Sam continued. "Okay. I give up. You and Beth get divorced. Why?"

Al couldn't lie very well to Sam. Other than Beth, he was the only person that forced the truth out of him. "You've met Beth and you know me. If you had to choose which one screws up, who would you choose?"

"Don't do this to me."

He had an agenda and paying attention to Sam wasn't on it. He just kept going in the only way he could. "Yeah, you're right. I dump her."

"Why? That makes no sense. You always tell me Beth was the one and only true love you ever had. Why would you dump her?"

Al walked ahead, stopped at a park bench and looked up at his friend. "Come over here and sit down. I want to watch a movie."

"I don't have time for movies,"

"This is a short subject." He laughed, "I made a joke. The movie is about me. I'm short. Get it?" Sam hadn't moved yet. The Calavicci short temper flared. "I said, sit down. Time to watch a little epic of inconsequential importance."

Al had a language of his own and sometimes Sam didn't catch on as quickly as he should. There was something Al wanted Sam to see and an invitation to a movie was his way of asking him to take a look. The hologram positioned himself to sit down on the bench and Sam joined him. Al punched a few buttons and a beam of light projected out. Still trying to give Al some respite from the pain Sam kidded, "You bring popcorn?"

There was absolutely no sign from Al that he heard Sam's comment. "A few minutes before I came back, I had Ziggy center me on Bingo." Al punched a few buttons on the handlink and projected an image of a young Navy pilot on his way home. "I don't remember the medic, but the guy fussing over me, he's Dwight Robertson, a commander, a real good guy."

The Navy personnel carrier wasn't the most elegant of airplanes. Dwight Robertson and a third man were together in a small alcove cordoned off by a makeshift privacy screen. Al was strapped down on a small stretcher, an IV feeding fluid and medication into him. Robertson sported a sling to support a broken arm. The other man checked Al's IV "There. That should help ease his pain." He patted Al's shoulder "Hang in there."

Ziggy zoomed in. To Sam's horror, Al's face was sunken to the bone. The marks of his last beating still showed. Pain was evident in small, weak whimpers. Commander Robertson put his hand on Al's. "Hey, Bingo, can you believe it? We're almost home. You keep thinking about that pretty wife of yours." The plane suddenly dropped a little, not anything to bother a man, but it was enough to force a gasp of pain sound out. "Damn it, Bingo. You hold on."

Al's physical condition wasn't hard to evaluate. Sam saw a skeletal human being looking like a concentration camp survivor. The mass of emaciation spoke softly, but the words didn't come easily. "Commander, I'm sorry, but I'm cold." The short speech was too much exertion and the pain of the trip showed in his vacant eyes.

Dwight took a damp cloth and wiped Al's face. "It's the fever. Not much longer Bingo. You'll be in an American hospital and you'll get well. I know it. You have to."

The medic felt Al's forehead. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Commander Robertson. I think he's losing the battle."

Robertson fumed, "Shut up, Ensign. Bingo's going to be fine," He turned back to Al. "Don't listen to this nozzle. He doesn't know you like I do. You're going to come through this. The worst is over. In just a few more hours, you'll be with Beth." A moan of pain was Al's answer.

The handlink images faded away. "You think we can get an Oscar for most depressing documentary?" Sam had no words. Al stared at the ground. "Robertson was the only one convinced I'd make it. I didn't even think I'd live. I'm not sure I wanted to." There was a long silence. Finally Al turned to Sam, "Speechless, huh?" It took a moment for Al to see the tears in Sam's eyes. "Don't do that."

Sam buried his head in his hands. "Why didn't you tell me Tom's squad was supposed to rescue you? God, I never meant for anyone, least of all you, to get hurt."

"Every action we take has a consequence. Most of them we can't track. This time, it's not so hard. We don't even need Ziggy." Sam's silent tears kept coming. "Listen, I chose to stay behind because I knew Beth wasn't going to wait for me. Then you had to see yourself in that stupid mirror in Cokesburg, and you changed Beth's and my history. I have to live with the consequences of both leaps, Beth waiting for me and my staying in Nam for five more years. The bottom line is I made these decisions."

Wiping his face, Sam sat back and looked straight into Al's eyes. "Tell me that now."

He filled Sam's request with a strong powerful gaze. "I made the decisions. Don't beat yourself up. It doesn't help anything here. We have this leap to deal with."

Realizing Al wasn't going to go any further, Sam got back on track. "Are you finally going to tell me what I'm supposed to do?"

Al played with the handlink, "Beth and I have some trouble adjusting over the next three days. If we don't get ourselves straightened out, we'll end up divorced. It's my fault, Sam. I push her away from me."

The agony ripping Al's heart was tearing Sam apart. "Do you remember why you pushed her away? I mean, Bingo is in real bad shape right now. He's not thinking straight. Do you have any idea what's going on in his mind?"

"I don't really know. All I remember is thinking I was going to be an invalid. You know, I hate that word. Invalid. If you accent the second syllable, it turns into another word and that's how people treat you, like you're invalid. That's what I felt like, an invalid person. Beth didn't deserve that."

"So you threw your marriage away?" As soon as he said the words, Sam regretted it. "God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"But it's true, Sam. I threw it away. I wasted eight years of her life, twelve really. She deserved better. I don't know why you leaped in here. Giving her up was the right thing to do," A new thought went through his head, more than a thought, actually. It was nearly a revelation and his mood shifted 180 degrees. "Maybe you can convince Beth to leave me before an entire year goes by. I bet that's it, Sam. You can give her an extra year." A stabbing pain made him wince.

But Sam had turned and didn't hear or see the Admiral's hands go to his head. "I can't believe I'm here to drive Beth away from you. That leap I made into Cokesburg was a one time chance I got to correct the biggest mistake I ever made. I'm not going to sit by and watch you ruin your life. I can't do that, Al. You deserve to be happy and have a dozen little Calaviccis running around." He said a short thank you to whomever for allowing him to remember that leap so long ago, "Remember Theresa Bruckner? We were there for two days and that four year old fell in love with you. You were magic. It's your destiny to be a husband to Beth and the father of her children. Al, let me make this work."

They sat there without saying a word for several minutes. Both men were searching the deepest recesses of their brilliant minds to find an answer to this dilemma. Hope was the clue to it all, but as much as Sam looking for it, Al was trying to bury it. Finally, Al broke the silence. "I want to be with her, Sam, but she's only going to have a lot of pain if she stays with me,"

"She loves you and for eight years she lived with the pain of not knowing if you were alive or dead. In the few hours I've known her, I've seen a woman of tremendous strength. Right now, Bingo needs her and the strength she can give him."

His headache was tight and driving arrows through his brain. "I survive."

Sam had the confrontational tenacity of a pit bull. "Since when has survival been enough for you? You need life more than any person I've known." On the edge of epiphany, he demanded, "Al, I want you to really listen to me now."

The Observer started to cringe. "Sam, stop it!' he pushed his palm against his forehead in an attempt to force the pain away.

"No. You have to hear me." The upcoming admission was hard. "I used to think I had a hard life, being smart and shy, having my brother die in Vietnam, my dad dying young and I was so proud I rose above it all. Then I meet you and you're not in such good shape. You were drinking a lot and you were about the moodiest man I'd ever met. I couldn't figure how you managed to become an Admiral. So, l thought I'd work my magic and transform you. You stopped drinking and I was very proud. Unfortunately, I was proud of me." With sarcastic self-mocking he continued, "I stopped your drinking, you know. You had nothing to do with it." He sighed at the conceit of it all. "Damn, why did you let me take credit for that? Stopping drinking had to be one of the hardest things you've ever done."

The kind of crap Sam was slinging made him nervous and beyond uncomfortable. As he typically did, he threw away any recognition he earned. "You do deserve the credit. There was no reason for me to stop until you gave me one."

He shook his head. "I'm not sure that's true. You faced the world in all its most ugly forms all your life and still, you have hope, incredible creativity and spontaneity. Beth told me your IQ is 157, well into the genius level, but your real genius is in being able to live, not just survive, but live life as it is meant to be lived. No one comes close to you in that. Without you, I'd be dead by now. Without you, Beth will be dead. Maybe not physically, but emotionally. Can you really be responsible for that death?"

Al buried his face in his hands hoping to hide his distress. "You don't know how much I hurt her by coming back beat up like that. The look in her eyes scared me more than anything I'd seen in my life. You don't understand, Sam. Beth can't deal with what happened to me there and if she doesn't want to, then I don't want her to. She couldn't bring herself to even touch me."

It was a genuine surprise to him and he couldn't imagine it true. "She didn't touch you? At all?"

"Not at first. Then she'd mostly keep her distance. She never slept with me again, even after I came home to the bungalow. I'm not talking about sex. I mean she never lay down next to me. It was a bad year, a real bad year." Enough was enough and he reached the edge. Hesitantly, he said, "Sam, I got to go. I'm real confused here and apparently, so is Ziggy." He bashed the side of the handlink. It let out a yelp. "I don't know, Sam. I don't have anything for you, here. You're on your own."

Sam got nervous. "Are you going to come back?"

Al's hand went to his face and then through his hair. "Yeah, I guess, if I can get rid of this headache. I feel like shit."

"You look like shit, too. Go take some aspirin and then get some sleep."

Al stood up and almost fell. "God damn it." The white door appeared and Al disappeared.

Sam's gut did flip-flops. He'd been in leaps that were more dangerous, leaps where he had to kill or be killed, where he held lives in his hands. This certainly wasn't like that. This leap, in some ways, was more difficult. Al was going to live and so was Beth. Sam was here to make their lives better, but how? Not knowing the people he leaped into made everything easier. It was even easier when he leaped into himself, but now, he was an insider involved in the most intimate situation Al and Beth would ever confront. If he screwed up, he would never forgive himself and each time he saw Al, he'd be reminded of it.

He walked up the steps and entered the house. Beth was sitting on the couch where Sam had found her after the leap from Cokesburg. She even had Ray Charles playing. **Georgia** filtered through the air and the lights were low. Beth held an envelope in her hands, staring at the address. She glanced up at Sam. "Did you have a nice walk?"

"It was fine. How about you? Did you get everything done?"

The immensity of Al's return finally hit Beth. "Not really. I don't think I can."

Sam sat next to her. Curiosity got the better of him. "What's that?"

"The last letter Al sent from Vietnam. I never read it."

He took the letter from her and as she said, it was unopened. "Why?"

"As long as I didn't open it, I could pretend it just came. Sometimes, I would drop it in my mailbox before I left for work and I'd forget I put it there. When I got home, I'd find it and for a fraction of a second, Al wasn't missing. Silly, huh?" Sam thought it a perfect reflection of the truest kind of love. "I've been sitting here since you left trying to get up the courage to open it finally." Beth stared at the letter in Sam's hand. "I know, you open it and read it to me."

An uncomfortable queasy feeling came over Sam. "No, Beth, this is probably really personal between you and Al. I shouldn't be reading it."

"If you don't, then I won't." She had a silly blush, "For some reason, I can't open it. Please, help me with this."

With an odd dread in his heart, Sam tore open the envelope and pulled out two sheets of paper. He unfolded the eight-year-old document. Sam started reading. "January 25, 1967."

She gasped. "That's the day before his plane was shot down. Oh, God."

Sam took a deep breath, knowing how unhappy Al would be that Sam was privy to these most private thoughts. "My Dearest Beth, The fighting here gets heavier and heavier every day. Two days ago, Chip was shot down by a SAM missile. I watched his plane explode in front of me. Five seconds later and the missile would have hit me instead. It's hard to see my friends disintegrate and fall to earth in unrecognizable pieces. Each time I climb into the cockpit of my A-4 I wonder if I'll come back. You're the only reason I will survive this war. I promise not to sign up for another TDY after this. I've had enough. I believe in serving my country and in the Navy, but something here isn't right. I don't know what it is, but it's not right."

Sam stopped to take a breath. He didn't see Al come through the Imaging Chamber door, returning to his home. The Admiral walked the edge of the room, trying to stay out of sight.

Sam bit down hard on his lip and continued to read. "I spend hours wondering if my being here does any good. All I do is drop bombs and kill people from far enough away that I don't have to watch them die. How many children have I murdered? How many orphans have I created? I love flying, Beth. It's a perfect freedom, but how can this kind of flying be honorable? I'm sorry. You don't need to hear this from me. I know you're not having such a good time either. Working in the burn ward at Balboa must be hard. When we send a man home in bad shape, I say a prayer that he'll be lucky enough to have you care for him."

Al crouched down so he could look into Beth's face. Her innocence was going to explode in less than 12 hours. He wanted to memorize the love he saw in her eyes.

Sam continued, ignorant of the audience across the room. "Every night I go to sleep imagining we're together at the bungalow, listening to Ray Charles, dancing in the dark. You hold me and I feel safe and protected from all the ugliness in the world. I will come home to you. Don't forget that. I promise I will come home.

"It's getting late, Beth. I'm going to need some sleep. Tomorrow's mission is going to be hard after watching Chip die. I love you more than life. Forever, Al."

Beth wiped a tear from her eye. Sam did so as well before saying, "There a second page here. It looks like a poem."

"He used to send me poetry every once in awhile. Go ahead, read it."

The Admiral looked to heaven and pleaded to God not to let Sam read the kinds of words he wrote in his poetry. Hell, he didn't want Sam to know he read the damn stuff let alone wrote it. Lately, though, God wasn't listening much to Al Calavicci. Lately? Make that ever. So it wasn't a surprise when Sam began.

"Her fingers danced,  
She smelled of us  
And the night  
Her heart gave rhythm  
To undefined notes  
Of improvised music.

"Give her your aching  
And you will never look  
To be born again.

"I tasted her warmth.  
I cried in her passion.  
Why would this danger  
Feel so safe?

"So we lay together  
And our fingers danced  
To improvised music."

Sam shook his head, "I never knew Al wrote poetry."

Al remained unseen and unheard until, "To quote Eugene O'Neill, - no relation to Janie, by the way - 'I'm like the guy who's always panhandling for a smoke. He hasn't got the makings. He's only got the habit.' That's from **Long Day's Journey into Night**."

Oblivious to her husband's presence, Beth told Sam, "Al doesn't show people that side of him very often. I don't know why. He's got talent as a writer. There are times though, that he talks in the biggest circles I've ever heard and it takes forever to catch what he's trying to tell me."

Sam looked at Al. "Oh, so that's an old habit."

Fortunately, Beth didn't hear him. She was too involved with her thoughts. "Janie, would you do me another favor? Would you come with me tomorrow?"

Al sighed in relief, "Say yes, Sam. Jane didn't go the first time."

"Sure."

"Oh, my God!" Beth stood up amazed at her stupidity. "I haven't called my parents yet. I haven't called mom and dad. I'll be right back." Beth ran out of the room to make her call.

Sam looked up at his friend, "So, did you get along with the in-laws?"

Al smiled a little. "They're great. It was like being in a real family. We had holidays and everything. Beth and I spent our first Thanksgiving with her parents, her brother and sister. Mom, her mother made pumpkin pie. That was the first time I ever had pumpkin pie. I mean, my parents, well, you know. Then when Christmas came along, we were with her family again and we sang Christmas carols. Can you picture that? Straight out of **Father Knows Best** and I was there and a welcome part of it all. Sam, it may not seem like much to you, but for me, it was a whole new world and I wasn't outside it. I was a part of it. All I ever really wanted was some sense of normalcy and I had that with Beth's family."

"They're your family, too, Al." In an attempt to convince his friend to fight for the life he'd earned, Sam said, "You know, you can't have what you won't fight for."

"I fought my entire life. I'm tired. I don't think there's any fight left in me."

"So you're making a choice to be unhappy."

Frustration was building, "Why do you twist everything I say?"

"I'm just looking at things from a different angle." There was an awkward silence. "Okay, you must have come back for a reason."

"Ziggy says Jane didn't go tomorrow. You already changed history."

Seeing the severe exhaustion in Al's face, and hoping a change of subject would help Sam asked, "How's your headache?"

"Almost as bad as Bingo's." The handlink blipped and door shut behind Al.

* * *

**Georgia on my Mind (c) **Hoagy Carmichael and Stuart Gorrell 


	3. The Source of the Pain

**A Promise of Home

* * *

**

This Quantum Leap™ story utilizes characters that are copyright © by Bellasarius Productions and Universal Studios. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan fiction story is written solely for the entertainment of the readers and is not for profit.All fiction, plots, and original characters are the sole creations of the author.

* * *

**_The Source of the Pain_**

The Admiral emerged from the Imaging Chamber tired and washed out. Staff psychiatrist, Verbena Beeks was there to greet him with her warm smile and gentle touch. "Come with me Admiral. You need some rest."

His eyes were flashing a light show and he couldn't cover the stabbing in his brain any longer. "I need something for this headache, Verbena. Something strong, but don't knock me out."

"You've been fighting a headache for a couple of days now, haven't you?"

The truth was it had been at least a month, but he said, "I don't know." He dropped the handlink and threw both hands to his temples. "God, it hurts."

Al started to fall forward, but Verbena caught him. "Gooshie, get over here!"

The programmer came walking over completely oblivious to the Admiral's plight. "You want something, Dr. Beeks?" He finally saw Al struggling to stay upright. "Oh, my. Is he all right?"

"Does he look all right? Call the infirmary. We need some help here stat."

The Admiral's pain was beyond belief. "Damn. This hurts too much." Gooshie grabbed a chair and with Verbena's help, Al was safe, but falling forward and losing consciousness quickly.

Verbena started to panic. "Al, can you hear me?" but there was no answer.

Though it seemed like hours, in minutes, a medical team arrived. They rushed the Admiral up to the Project Infirmary where Dr. Gary Sinclair waited for him. Al was wheeled into the trauma room. Nurse Liz Madison followed close behind. Verbena was left in the infirmary's waiting area to keep watch and worry. One of the medics approached her, "Dr. Beeks, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Why don't you go relax a bit? Dr. Sinclair will call you as soon as he knows something."

Verbena nodded and made her way to her rooms where, like everyone else in the project, she waited for news concerning the Admiral's status.

* * *

Beth woke early the next morning. The red sun dress looked beautiful with her brunette hair. After his own sleep trials, Sam awoke and wearing Jane's uniform, walked into Beth's bedroom and found her combing her hair, "Jane, would you help me? My hair looks terrible. I want to look perfect for Al." 

Fixing women's hair wasn't a skill Sam Beckett possessed. He was barely able to comb his own without making it look goofy. "You sure you want me to do this?"

"You're fabulous with hair, please?"

Sam took the comb from Beth and began to try and follow the simple style Beth wore. It wasn't as hard as he thought and when he ran his hands through her hair, he could imagine how Al felt when he did the same. He thought about all the new things he had learned about his friend. He wrote poetry, survived a physically abusive childhood, had a genius IQ, never tasted pumpkin pie until he was an adult, and in this time line, he was in horrific pain after finally being released from a Vietnamese camp. What Sam didn't know was that Admiral Calavicci was in almost as much pain as the lieutenant, but unlike the Lieutenant, the Admiral's chance of survival was not guaranteed.

* * *

Hours later, Verbena called the executive staff together to discuss the situation. She was the first to arrive in the conference room. The big chair at the end of the table was where Al usually sat when he conducted his meetings. She tried to sit there, but found she couldn't. It was Al's place and she wasn't ready for anyone, not even herself, to take his spot. The others came within the next two minutes. When all had arrived, she sat down and made eye contact with Gooshie, Dr. Sinclair, Chief of Security Bob Andrade, Chief Hardware Technician Stacey Priester, and Dr. Donna Elesee, Sam's wife and staff quantum physicist. 

"You all are aware that Admiral Calavicci is ill. I'd like Dr. Sinclair to fill us in on the details of his medical status."

"He's stable now. According to Ziggy, he's had a headache for several weeks which he never told me about. We took a series of x-rays, a CT scan and some spinal fluid. With his symptoms and the test results," he stopped for a breath. His next words were going to be devastating and he hated saying them. "We're dealing with a brain tumor, probably malignant." Dr. Sinclair addressed Verbena directly. "He needs a neurosurgeon as soon as possible."

Donna wanted concrete information and she asked the question everyone wanted to ask, "Gary, is Al going to die?"

"I can't say, but my guess would be that he's in a lot of trouble. We can only do cursory tests here, but the mass has probably been there awhile."

Verbena took over after about ten seconds of stunned silence. "Okay. There is a time for dealing with our feelings and a time to deal with the administration of the Project. Right now, we have Dr. Beckett involved in a leap. Gooshie, can you create a link between him and yourself the way you did when Stiles was here?"

"I think so. It depends a lot on the woman he leaped into."

Stacey added, "If you want him to see you, we'll have to make some hardware adjustments."

Waving them out of the room, Verbena told them, "Get started now. Sam has to know what's happening here."

Gooshie started talking, but no one was sure if it was to himself or to someone in particular. "It shouldn't take too long. I can open the program we used with Stiles and modify it." He left muttering the changes he'd need to make in a computerese that only he and Stacey spoke.

Donna stood, "I'm not needed here. I'm going to stay with Al. Is that okay, Gary?" The doctor nodded. "Let me know if I can help." Donna left.

Bob Andrade looked at Dr. Sinclair. "I'll need the names of the doctors you have in mind, I'll start preliminary clearances." And one more left the table leaving only Verbena and Gary.

He said, "That didn't take long."

"Everyone knows their job. Once we're in crisis mode, we move. You're relatively new here, but this is what happens when we're in trouble. The staff here was handpicked for their specialty and their ability to work independently in a group. Does that make sense?"

"I suppose." He asked a question that he hated asking, "What happens if he dies?"

She hoped she was the only one who considered that possiblity, but obviously that wasn't the case. "There's a plan, but we're not going to have to implement it because you're going to get him through this."

"I'm not sure I can. Brain tumor at his age and with his history. I don't know how he got into the space program. In the seventies, they were very fussy about entry requirements."

"How much time have you spent with him?" A slight shrug indicated that Gary didn't know the Admiral all that well. "You have to know him to understand he gets whatever he wants or needs whenever he wants or needs it. That's his special talent."

Donna walked from the conference room to the infirmary. She pulled a chair up next to Al's bed. He was resting. She put her hand on his and quietly began to sing the song that seemed to be his favorite. "Georgia, Georgia, the whole day through. Just an old sweet song keeps Georgia on my mind." His eyes slowly opened. She smiled at him, "It's Donna, Al. You got to rest, now. You're one sick puppy."

He looked a little confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Just came to keep you company. You've got to concentrate on getting better."

He was disorientated and unable to determine what time line he was living. "No, I'll be okay. See, since I'm alive now, I have to be okay in 1975." A shooting pain in his head made him moan and gasp. "Damn it. That gun butt hurt like hell." He closed his tired eyes and tightened into a mask of deep pain. "Fuck, it hurts, but you know, for three hours I was free." A wicked grin opened up and he tried to sit up. The wave of dizziness pulled him back pretty quickly. "That was a bad idea, but kid, you got to keep trying." He started moaning, but the pain was remembered torture from Vietnam. "God, is Beckman around? My shoulder popped out."

No one knew his life in Vietnam. He never told them anything and now she was privy to his attempt to escape. As much as everyone thought they needed to know his past, now that Donna was hearing it, she felt like she was intruding on too intimate a moment in his life. She tightened her grasp. "Take it easy, Al. Deep breaths, come on, concentrate."

His body stiffened again in some recollected assault. "Shit, someone needs to break that fucking cattle prod." His back arched against the electric stabbing into his spine. The pain passed and he looked into Donna's eyes. All recognition of her had vanished. He stared and stared and nothing was there. "I should remember you, but I don't."

"I'm Donna, Sam's wife." Leaving him in Vietnam was too cruel. She wanted him to come back to New Mexico. "You're safe here. Remember Quantum Leap?" He wasn't paying attention, but she kept talking to him. "It's okay you don't remember. Just get some sleep. You'll be feeling better soon." She continued with her song. "Georgia, Georgia, no peace I find. Just an old sweet song keeps Georgia on my mind."

Donna straightened out the thin blanket covering him and sat back knowing there was nothing more she could do, but also knowing Sam would want her to stay at his side. Besides, she wanted to stay with him, to stay with her best friend. It finally clicked in for her. Al was her best friend and she couldn't bear the thought of losing him.

* * *

An impressive limousine pulled up to the bungalow. An ensign came to the door and escorted Beth and Sam to the car. Inside was another woman and a boy about three years of age. They all awkwardly looked at each other. Beth extended a hand to the woman. "Hello. I'm Beth Calavicci." 

The woman took Beth's hand. "My name is Martha Robertson. This is my son James."

"Hello, James." The boy smiled at Beth. "You are a handsome young man." James started to hide behind his mother. "This is my friend, Jane O'Neill.' Everyone exchanged greetings and then they were quiet. Beth finally found the courage to ask, "Are you meeting your husband, too?"

"Yes. He's been an MIA for two and a half years now. They found him and another pilot a few days ago."

"My husband's the other pilot. His name is Al."

"Dwight." The woman stumbled for her next words. "Your husband is Navy, too? I hear that he's doing well. I'm glad for you and him."

Small talk seemed incredibly small considering the event about to unfold, but Beth sympathized, "I'm sorry Dwight has been injured. I hope he'll be okay."

The edge of the Pacific Ocean sent the scent of the sea into the limousine. "How long was your husband missing?"

Staring out at the sailboats in the distance, Beth said, "Eight years."

James wanted to look out the window too and fussed on his mother's lap. "That must have been terrible for you. I'm glad he's well. After eight years, he deserves to be."

Beth tried to give solace to her sister-in-situation. "So does Dwight. The number of years doesn't matter."

The conversation was difficult for Sam to hear. He knew the truth. Dwight would be walking off that plane, not Al. He looked at little James. "Has your husband seen his son, yet?"

"James was born seven months after Dwight was shot down. I'm not even sure he got my letter telling him I was pregnant. I hope he's happy about our baby here."

Sam smiled, "Who wouldn't be happy with a handsome young man like that?"

Martha took the boy's hand. "I've tried to tell him that his daddy is hurt and sick, but little children don't understand. They told me that Dwight was tortured. Why do people do that? There was no reason to torture him or any of the boys who went. Captain Velez told me he couldn't walk and that he weighed only 87 pounds when they found him. Dwight isn't a real big man. He's five nine, but a full grown man can't be weighing 87 pounds."

Sam knew that a man who was five six shouldn't be weighing 87 pounds either.

Beth's compassion showed in her face. She placed her hand on Martha's and James'. "He'll probably be checked into Balboa. I'm a nurse there. I'll make sure he gets extra special care. I promise you."

"You're very kind. Thank you." Martha smiled and looked at Sam. "You're a nurse too, I see."

The rest of the trip was filled with more awkward small talk. The whole point of this trip was to greet lost men and that was the focus. Everything else seemed meaningless. The limo pulled into the airport lot. Another entourage met the quartet and they were all escorted to a waiting room overlooking the runways. They would watch the plane landing. Sam sat next to Beth and together they stared at the sky. Beth's shining eyes looked about the tarmac and she wondered to Sam, "There's no honor guard. There should be some kind of honor guard for them." From the corner of his eye, Sam saw the Imaging Chamber door open. The figure emerging flickered and didn't look much like Al. Sam touched Beth's hand, "I'll be right back."

Sam walked away from the group plastered at the window. The flickering light moved with him and he heard the light call his name. "Dr. Beckett, can you see me?"

Whispering under his breath, "Gooshie, is that you? Where's Al?"

The Programmer was brilliant, but socially he was inept. In situations where he had to bring bad news, he stammered and stumbled. "Well, we have a little problem here. He can't come to see you."

"More like won't. Damn him."

Gooshie's image became clearer. "Well, it's actually more like can't. I guess the best thing to do is just tell you straight. I don't really know how to. I've never been good at this sort of thing."

Sam's patience was wearing very thin. "Gooshie, I don't have a lot of time here. Where is Al?"

His ease with conversation didn't match his ease with machines. Gooshie just didn't know what to say so he said the obvious. "Admiral Calavicci is sick."

Recalling Al's exit, Sam said, "He had a headache last time he was here."

"Well, it's more than a headache." Gooshie stopped talking.

There was no time for pulling each piece of information from his Observer. "Come on, Gooshie. What is going on?"

"Well," he was increasingly uncomfortable and just blurted out, "He has a brain tumor."

Sam wasn't prepared to hear that news. "What? A brain tumor? Malignant or benign?"

"Dr. Sinclair isn't sure, but well, he's leaning toward malignancy. I guess the Admiral has been having headaches for weeks and didn't say anything."

"Are you sure it's cancer?" The sad reflection of Gooshie answered him silently. Then reality hit Sam in the face. In this leap, he had two Al's in his life and both could die. "Okay, you go back now and you tell Al everything is going to be okay. You make sure he does everything the doctor wants him to do."

"I'll tell him, but you know the Admiral."

"Gooshie, he's got to get better. Make sure he does."

Gooshie could hear the catch in Sam's voice. "Don't worry, Dr. Beckett. We'll take care of him. He's going to be fine."

"That's not what you said."

Lying was an impossibility for Gooshie. "Well, I guess not, but I can't imagine anything happening to Admiral Calavicci, can you?"

Maybe Sam had believed that at one time, but he knew better now. He didn't want to, but he knew better. "I have to get back to Beth." Sam turned to leave, "Gooshie, tell Al not to worry. I'll take care of Beth. Everything will be fine."

"Dr. Beckett. Being here is a real power drain. I can't get back here for at least 24 hours."

"Okay. I understand. Go back to Al. Tell him everything will work out." Sam walked back to Beth and the Robertsons. They were all standing at the window. In the distance, a Navy transport plane was taxiing toward the waiting area. "Is that the plane?"

Beth took Sam's hand. "This is it, Jane. Do you think Al's looking out here at us?"

"I don't know, Beth." One last time, he had to try one last time. "Please remember, he may not be in the best of shape." He felt Beth's hand quiver and wondered if it was her body shaking or his. Al was coming home and the powers controlling Quantum Leap privileged him with participation in this most righteous moment.

The ensign driver escorted Beth, Martha and James Robertson down to the tarmac. Sam stood a few feet behind. A warm breeze blew and created a scene worthy of a Rambo movie - the returning war heroes, the wives and child waiting for them. It was all perfect except that Beth's illusion was about to shatter and that could possibly shatter her life and Al's.

Inside the plane, Commander Robertson was talking to Bingo. "What do you know. We made it. We're in San Diego, Bingo. Can you hear me?"

Bingo looked up at the Commander. "Home? We're home?"

"Yeah, San Diego. We're home in America. Hang on just a little while longer." He looked out the window next to Al. "Man I can see them. I see my Martha. She's got a little boy with her. What do you think, Bingo? You think maybe I'm a daddy? Oh, my Lord. Look at that boy." Knowing his friend couldn't see the amazing site, Robertson told Al, "I see your Beth. Hey, she is a looker, Bingo. She's wearing a red dress and, damn, is she beautiful. I used to think you were bragging, but you're right. She is really pretty." He wiped a cool cloth across Al's forehead. "They waited for us, buddy. Just a few more minutes."

A dry hollow voice asked, "Beth?"

Robertson patted Al's arm. "She's here. Remember this day, Bingo. Remember today for the rest of your life. There won't be another one like it ever."

The stairs were secured. An ensign opened up the door on the transport. Four Navy orderlies ran up the steps and into the plane. As Beth mentioned earlier, Sam noticed the absence of any welcome, no young sailors in full dress holding raised swords, no band playing music. There was nothing to formally welcome these two lost men.

On the ground, no one spoke. There was too much anticipation to make words possible. Almost a full minute passed before Commander Robertson appeared at the top of the stairs. Martha gasped so loud that she frightened James. Sam stepped forward. "I'll watch your son," and Martha ran toward the stairs as Dwight ran down. As the reunited couple hugged and kissed, Beth came to the realization that Sam's admonitions were right. "Beth, are you okay?"

"Janie, Commander Robertson, look." She pointed to him and chuckled as if a bad practical joke just went awry. "No, no please. It's not fair. Please, God, have Al walk off the plane now. Please have him walk off the plane."

The Robertsons came toward Beth. Martha took her boy from Sam's arms. "Dwight, this is your son, James. James, this is your daddy."

The little boy mumbled, "Daddy." and he too was involved in the family's rejoicing.

Dwight turned to Beth. "You're Beth?" She nodded. "I'm proud to meet you. Your husband is a real hero. Without him, I know I'd be dead. He's going to need a lot of care. They beat him up really bad, but if anyone can come through all this, Bingo can."

The shock kept her from meeting anyone's eyes. "They told me he was fine."

Dwight looked at Martha. She knew what happened. "Dwight, they said it was you that was sick. Mrs. Calavicci was expecting her husband to walk off the plane and I was expecting you to be carried. I guess they got your names mixed up."

At that moment, the orderlies began to carry a gurney down the steps. One man held IV bags. Sam saw the men first. He took Beth's arm, hoping to steady her shaking knees. "Beth, I think they're bringing Al down now.

Beth walked unsteadily toward the orderlies, Sam at her side. "Beth, Martha said Dwight weighed 87 pounds. Remember that. Al's only going to weigh 87 pounds."

The medic that flew home with Al approached Beth. "Mrs. Calavicci?" He took her arm and led her away from Al. "Why don't you come with me."

Finding the courage was hard, but she pretended it was there and told the medic, "I want to see my husband."

"We're taking him directly to Balboa. I think it's best if you wait until he's settled in a room there. He's not feeling or looking too well right now."

Beth was a zombie, unable to react. Sam intervened. "Beth wants to see Al now. She's been waiting eight years for this. Don't take him away from her again."

"No, Jane. It's all right. I can wait." Beth pulled her hand from Sam's and walked back toward the waiting room.

Sam ran after her, "Beth." He caught her arm. "Beth, Al is home. He needs to see you. You need to see him."

Beth turned to Sam. Her eyes were wide and frightened. "Not yet. I can't see him, yet. I thought he was coming home to me, not to the hospital. I need time to get used to this."

"What about Al? How do you think he's feeling now? He knows you're here. If you leave without seeing him, you're going to regret it." Beth's earlier tears of happiness were now flowing in sorrow. "Beth, he loves you and I know you love him. Go see him. I'll be with you."

The gurney carrying Al was being placed inside a waiting ambulance. Beth saw the back door start to close. Al was in there and she understood in her mind what her friend had just said even if her heart wasn't certain. She ran to the car with Sam following. "Wait. Don't leave yet. That's my husband." She stopped the ambulance by standing in its path. Barking orders as well as Al ever had, she demanded, "You let me inside now!" The orderlies opened the back door and Beth and Sam got in. Beth pushed an orderly out of their way. "We're nurses. You go sit up front. We'll take care of him here." The orderly didn't move. "Now, Ensign! I'm Lieutenant Commander Calavicci. Do you understand?"

Beth and Sam maneuvered their way onto benches on either side of the gurney. Beth moved close to Al's face and gasped at the sight. Sam had to concentrate on not throwing up despite the fact he'd seen Al's projection the night before. Leaning over in Al's line of sight, Beth put her hand on his face. "Al? Can you hear me? It's Beth, sweetheart. Can you open your eyes?"

It took effort, but his lids finally opened revealing blood red corneas making his emaciation even more pronounced. Focusing wasn't easy in the dimly lit ambulance, but eventually Al came to recognize the beautiful face of his beautiful wife. Summoning up all his strength, he whispered the first words Beth heard him say in eight years. It took three breaths for him to tell her, "I promised I'd come home, Beth." Her tears dropped onto his face. She started to wipe them off. He whispered, "No, I want to feel them."

She took his hand in hers and could actually feel the bones. Beth gazed at Sam. "Janie, look at his hand. There's no muscle left."

Sam had never seen anyone as fragile as Al. Even knowing that he was going to survive didn't make the reality of this current timeline any less difficult. Al's body was a testament to the remarkable cruelty of human beings. It was an even bigger testament to the remarkable will human beings have to survive. Sam could see oozing scar tissue around Al's wrists and above his elbows. Fractured teeth were covered by a bite plate and his lips cracked from malnutrition and dehydration. His sallow skin had blue/green/purple bruises. As a young man, Al was handsome, but even with his curly, dark hair grown too long for regs (the way Beth always liked it), this Al was frightening to see. Sam found the remnants of a bullet wound in the returning hero's upper arm. It must have passed through without hitting a bone or an artery, but the insignificant medical care he received left an ugly scar.

In a very real way, Sam was glad that Admiral Calavicci didn't have to witness any more of this leap. It must have been devastating for the Admiral to see himself the night before. Sam fought back tears, "Al, what did they do to you?"

Beth looked at Sam. "I don't know if we'll ever find out, Jane. I hope he doesn't hold all this inside him."

Sam knew Al would never tell the horror he experienced. It was a trait that would later make him dependent on alcohol and anger. Maybe if things went more smoothly now Al might be able to avoid those killing demons. It was amazing how one change affected so many things in a life. There was an awful lot riding on the success of this leap.

For the rest of the ride, Al stared up at her, his eyes rarely blinking. Sam felt that he might leap at any moment. Al had told him Beth didn't touch him at all and this Beth was holding Al's hand and running her fingers softly down his cheek. Her hand rested against his forehead, "Jane, does he have a fever?"

Sam put the back of his hand to Al's forehead. He was burning up. "Sure does."

"Let's pull this blanket back." She and Sam lifted his frail arms and moved the blanket off his body. He was wearing a hospital gown that allowed them to see more of the damage done by the VC. Al's left leg had been broken and not set. Its deformity was readily apparent. So were more scars than Sam could begin to count. Al's belly distended. The outline of his hip bones showed through the thin cloth covering. It was as gruesome a picture as Sam had ever seen.

Beth avoided looking at Al's body and just stared into his eyes. Despite everything, all the mistreatment he received, there was something in his eyes that was still Al Calavicci. She said nothing. She simply stroked his cheek, gently played with his curls and smiled at his sad face.

While Beth and Al got reacquainted, Sam decided to give Al a quick examination beginning with his feet. Scars and healing sores encircled his ankles. Thick calluses on the soles showed he hadn't worn shoes possibly for years. Two toes were missing. Sam never noticed that before. Using the lightest touch he could, Sam palpated Al's abdomen. There was a lot of tenderness over his intestines. Sam assumed that Al was battling parasites. He found a stethoscope and listened to Al's heart and lungs. The sounds weren't as strong as they should be, but they were steady and that was reassuring.

Beth leaned over close to Al's ear and whispered, "I love you."

Okay, time to leap, but no blue light phased in. Sam was still Jane. What else was going on here? He wished he had better access to Ziggy. But Gooshie couldn't be available like Al. Then Sam's thoughts went from young Al to the Admiral. How was he doing? Did they have any more information about the tumor? Maybe, it wasn't cancer. Sam said a short prayer for both incarnations of his best friend.


	4. And No One Asked His Opinion

**A Promise of Home

* * *

**

This Quantum Leap™ story utilizes characters that are copyright © by Bellasarius Productions and Universal Studios. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan fiction story is written solely for the entertainment of the readers and is not for profit. All fiction, plots, and original characters are the sole creations of the author.

* * *

**And No One Asked His Opinion**

Al was asleep in the infirmary with Donna sitting at his side. She saw the door open and Gary Sinclair entered with the Admiral's chart. He didn't look happy. "You still here?"

"I don't want him to wake up alone." She looked down at the man sleeping just a little too quietly for her taste. "He is going to wake up, isn't he?"

Gary looked surprised. "Of course, he will." He flipped through pages of a recently received fax. "I sent the Admiral's chart and CAT scans to Albuquerque, to a neuro-oncologist there. She thinks we're looking at a primary glioblastoma. Security is arranging clearance for her, but I know she won't operate on the Admiral here. We'll have to take him to Albuquerque. Right now, we'll get him stabilized, steroids to reduce the swelling in his brain, an anti-convulsant, and some oxy for the pain." Sam's wife was devastated. The doctor hadn't meant to frighten her. "Donna, why don't you get some rest yourself."

Her hand hadn't left the Admiral's. "Gary, are you aware of where Sam is right now?"

"I know it something to do with the Admiral's homecoming from Vietnam."

"I wouldn't exactly call it a homecoming. That Admiral is emaciated, with a raging fever and a belly filled with parasites." Her fingers gently closed around a hand that had an IV poking into it. She kept the Admiral's flashback to herself. Al would be mortified completely if he knew that he'd told anyone even one of his terrors. "Now you couple that with the torture he's gone through and you tell me if this Admiral should be alone right now."

Sinclair hadn't caught onto the intricacies of leaping and, as a medical professional. it wasn't his concern - usually. "Vietnam was years ago. He's a different man now."

"It's the same man. This one here just happens to be 25 years older. I can't let him wake up alone." She gently tucked the sheet around him. "He's in real trouble, isn't he?"

"Glioblastomas the size of this one are fatal. If Dr. Estes is right, he's probably got six months more or less, certainly not more than a year."

"Al will beat the odds. He always does."

Sinclair felt it necessary to stay the realist. "There comes a point when the odds don't play in your favor any more. He's not going to pull this one out of the fire."

"Yeah, well. You never know." Donna needed to change the subject. "You'll have to make it so he gets back in the Imaging chamber."

The doctor looked at the medications hanging from the IV pole. A small adjustment was made, a lessening of the anti-convulsant medication. "I know. He does whatever he wants despite my recommendations." A notation was made in the file. "He'll be waking up sooner than I'd like now and won't listen to me about staying in bed so, I give up."

The Admiral stirred a bit and Donna straightened the sheet a bit. "Don't take it personally. He knows how to break rules and come out on top every time. I don't quite understand how, but he does. Sam would never have gotten funding for Quantum Leap on his own. Even when he was on the outs with the brass, Al could pull enough strings to do whatever he wanted to do."

There was much to admire, but doctors become doctors because they want to heal others. When someone wasn't going to get healed, Sinclair's frustrations came out strong and he knew that regardless of what he wanted to do, the Admiral's life was out of his control. "Incredible doesn't mean superhuman. I know all about the Admiral and bottom line is he is subject to all the human frailties the rest of us are. This is brain cancer. If Estes is right, and we both know she is, the Admiral's going to die."

The simple fact was, "Al won't die until he gets Sam home."

His hand sat on the doorknob. "Then congratulations, Dr. Beckett. The other Dr. Beckett will be home before the year is done." Sinclair walked out of the infirmary.

Donna wondered and worried. If Gary was right, then not only was Al dying, but Sam too. The concept consumed her mind for more than an hour. She stared at Al so hard she didn't see his eyes at last flutter open. It wasn't until he whispered her name that she came back to reality. "Al? You're awake?"

"Of course, I'm awake." He wasn't fully aware of his surroundings. "What are you doing here? Did Sam leap?"

"You're not in your quarters, Al. You're in the infirmary. Do you remember'?"

Al tried to put it all together. "I had a headache."

"You've been asleep about 14 hours."

He wasn't listening to a word Donna was saying. He was too busy looking around and finally noticing the IV pole and the electronic monitors attached to his body. "I had a headache. I've had one since I met your husband."

Donna laughed. The Admiral was back. "Yeah, but hasn't the headache you've had the last month or so been a little worse than usual?"

Of course, it was, but there hadn't been time to consider getting it checked out. "The last couple of leaps have been hard ones. I don't know how Sam does it."

It looked like the job of telling him the news belonged to her. "Sam has you to help and we have a lot of hard work to do so that you can get back to him. Gary has run all sorts of tests. You're really scaring us."

So he heard the prequel. The news wasn't good and in his gut he knew. Somehow, he knew. "Cut the chitchat, Donna. Just tell me." The smile he flashed was more for her sake than his.

She pulled her hand from his. "Al, I don't know if I can." Her silence was confirming his suspicions, but he needed to hear the truth. "Gary's not 100 sure, yet." A deep breath later, Donna confided, "He thinks it's a brain tumor."

Al smiled again. "Figures. That's how my father died. You know, the guy was six three, built like the Incredible Hulk and what do I end up inheriting from him? a predisposition for brain tumors." He chuckled.

She wasn't sure what reaction she expected, but laughter wasn't on the list. "And you're laughing about it."

"Yes. Is Sam still with Beth?" Donna told him what had happened. "I have to get to Sam." He started to sit up covering the dizziness rather poorly.

"You're going nowhere."

Squared shoulders and a deep breath allowed him to bark in his commander's voice, "You're right. I'm going nowhere. That's why I have to get to Sam while I can."

Donna shook her head nearing tears. "Please, don't do this. There's always a chance."

"Until there's some medical protocol in place," his hand in front of her face stopped her attempt to interrupt, "that I agree to, I'm doing my job. So, unplug this crap and get me some decent clothes. I don't know what they did with mine."

* * *

Bingo's homecoming was not the happy welcome Beth expected. Her dreams of their first day together didn't include trying to spoon feed him baby food. Along with his IVs, the doctors wanted him to begin eating by mouth, but his meal turned into an ordeal. Sam watched the painstaking efforts to get Al to swallow. The struggle was incredibly unfair. After half an hour, Beth was as weary as Al. Sam took the spoon. "Here, let me feed him." Beth handed him the cup of food and sat in a chair near the window. 

Sam focused his attention on Al. "I know eating is kind of hard, but we need to get some weight on you. Try to relax your jaw a little. Then maybe you can swallow a little easier." Sam massaged the side of Al's face, just below his ear. The technique worked for dogs and cats and Sam felt embarrassed to try it on this shade of the Admiral. Somehow, it seemed to belittle him, but after a little time, Al began to open his mouth with greater ease. With opportunities arising, Sam deposited teaspoon after teaspoon of food into Al's mouth and discreetly massaged the side of Al's throat. Food found its way into the returning POW's system. It was a very small victory, but it was a victory.

It never occurred to Sam that the barely conscious, damaged lieutenant before him felt deeply embarrassed by the truth of his limited abilities. For some reason, being warm and safe and home made him less able than he was weeks earlier when he had only himself to rely on. And he wanted to eat, but it was too hard. Anyhow, the food wasn't all that good, but at least there were no bugs, bits of glass or wire in it. Maybe it was the thing this nurse kept touching to his broken teeth. He hadn't used an eating utensil in over eight years. It took a second for him to remember the word - spoon. Yeah, that was it.

Beth stared out the window trying not to pay any attention to Sam and Al. An hour passed and the last of the green mash was gone. Sam spoke to Bingo and broke the empty sound. "You know, if this was chocolate pudding, then we'd have no trouble getting it in you. I never knew a grownup who loves chocolate as much as you."

The memory made Beth smile, at first. Then she was puzzled. "How did you know Al loves chocolate?"

The Admiral's love of sweets was legend at the project. He reveled in chocolate, root beer, banana splits, anything gooey and chock full of calories and cholesterol, but Jane shouldn't know about the sweet tooth. "You must have told me. Anyhow, anyone as romantic as Al here has to love chocolate." It was a cover, not a good one, but a cover.

"You're right. He loves to eat." Beth wandered over to the other side of the bed. She took Al's hand. "The last dinner we had before you shipped out in '66, do you remember, Al?"

Opening his eyes was a physical effort, but he looked at her and whispered a memory he'd thought about endlessly over the past eight years. "La Majada. You had Pechuga Rellenos. You wore a yellow dress. It was..." he paused to catch his breath, "Tuesday night and you tried hard not to cry, but I knew," his breathing was labored, "you didn't want me to go."

"Then why did you leave me?" As soon as she asked the question, she regretted it.

More shame filled his heart. "I thought I could make a difference,"

"You did, sweetheart. Do you know about the photograph? I have it hanging on the wall of the bungalow. It was a picture of you and two other American soldiers. The VC dragged you along the Mekong. Your hands were tied behind your back. You must have heard or seen something because you turned to the camera and the only face photographed was yours." Sam's stomach churned with the description of Maggie's last photo. Beth continued telling Al the story of his impact on the war. "The picture was in all the newspapers, in Time and Life magazine. I was having dinner and looked up to see you on the news, there standing in front of me. Once the Navy officially identified you to the press, the media was all over me, wanting to know how I felt." The memory created such conflict in her heart. The picture proved he was alive, but also proved he was a prisoner in one of the jungle camps, the camps that no one policed. "Oh, God, when I saw you tied up like that I wanted to cry forever. Then the damn thing wins a Pulitzer and I thought the Navy would really fight to get you home, but they said they did all they could." Her tears vanished in anger. "They said you were killed by ground fire after the picture got published. I almost started to believe them."

Sam shook his head, "Beth, I'm so sorry. If I'd have known."

A gravelly voice whispered, "Don't do this to yourself, Sam." The leaper spun around to see Admiral Calavicci. "Remember what I said. I made the decisions in that leap, not you." Sam just stared at the pale apparition of an Observer and then back at the young version.

Bingo was puzzled by the photograph. "I saw a girl, a blonde girl taking pictures, but then I thought I was crazy." His eyes welled up with tears, "Hal got killed and Jason, they put me and Jason in front of a firing squad, but they all shot him. They kept me alive. God, they kept me alive." His eyes closed against the memory.

The grieving wife asked, "What happened to you, Al? Tell me."

He only could whimper, "No."

The Admiral hated seeing himself, seeing his past and future at the same time. He spoke softly, "We got to talk, Sam."

Sam stood up not realizing how shaky his knees were. In trying to regain his balance, he leaned on young Al's badly bruised arm. Bingo audibly winced with the pain. "I'm so sorry, Al. I'm sorry." Heartbreak filled his voice and his next words were more for his Observer than the man he just unintentionally bruised. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Shame screamed from his face, but no one heard it except the Admiral. He looked at Beth, "Listen, I'll be back." Sam turned and left Bingo's private hospital room, Al a few steps behind him.

Sam darted down the hallway toward the stairwell. He got there a moment before the Admiral and had time to slide to the floor, emotionally exhausted. As much as he wanted to look his friend in the eye, he couldn't do it. His head hung with more shame than he thought possible. "What did I do to you?"

The last thing he wanted was to resurrect more memories of this particular period in his life. "You didn't do anything. You all right, Sam?"

Everything was too confusing. This Al was supposedly in a coma somewhere else in time. It started to overwhelm him. "Am _I_ all right? Gooshie said you were sick, really sick, that you were in a coma."

Al gathered all the strength he had and shrugged. "So he exaggerated a little. It was more like a long nap. How are things going here?"

"Gooshie told me you had a brain tumor."

When the Admiral wanted to avoid talking, he changed the subject. "Are Beth and Bingo doing okay? They schedule the surgery for the parasites yet?"

"Surgery for the parasites?" Recalling the distended belly on the lieutenant, Sam nodded. "Yeah, you probably do need surgery for that."

"What probably? They cut out a few feet of my innards."

Sam stood and walked to the hologram, staring down at him, "What's your prognosis?" Patience was low on his priority list. He stood as nose to nose as possible. "Veritas, Calavicci."

When Sam brought out the Latin, Al knew there was no time for jokes. With a shrug Al moved away. "Sinclair mentioned something about maybe a brain thing, but he doesn't know for sure yet." Sam knew that being silent would draw more information than talk, so he kept quiet. Al fidgeted and then continued. "Okay, so I had a headache." More stares and Al said, "I'm here. So I must be okay."

"Brain tumors, even benign brain tumors, are serious, Al. You have to take care of yourself. Damn it, Al. You're too sick to be doing this."

No one, not even Sam would be allowed to challenge him. "Who's going to take care of you? We can't have Gooshie observe. You know the power drain is way too much. We'd black out the northern hemisphere if we made him the permanent observer."

There was much to admire in his friend and his determination was part of that, but Sam knew Al would easily jeopardize his health, even his life if he felt Sam needed him. "I know the power draw would be too much, but I also know you're very sick right now and I'm scared for you and for me. If you're not available then I'm out here alone. I can handle it for a little while, but not for long. Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

His word was sacred. He wouldn't promise Sam anything he couldn't be sure of achieving. Rather than admit to it, Al tried again, "How are things with Beth and Bingo?"

Sam was getting nothing more from Al. He knew it and decided just to answer the question. "Bingo's in bad shape. It took me almost an hour to feed him two ounces of pureed vegetables."

"That green crap? Yuckola."

Sam had to smile. "Last night, I offered some warm milk to Beth . . ."

Jumping in, Al laughed a little. "She hates warm milk."

"I know. She said it was 'yuckola.'".

"That's where I got it." He reflected on his homecoming. "It was almost a month before I got to bite into a piece of anything solid and was able to keep it down. My meals were all pureed crap."

"There was a reason for that. You weren't capable of digesting anything heavier than mushy stuff. They wanted you to gain good weight. You know, muscle mass, not fat."

He proudly showed off his svelte self. "Does it look like I gained fat?"

Sam found an opportunity and he took it. "No. In fact, I think you've lost a few pounds. That's not good. You need to maintain your body weight as much as possible. If they put you on chemotherapy, you'll need all the fat you can get. That means you eat, a lot,"

Al had no use for this conversation. He tried again. "Back to Beth and Bingo."

"Did you know that Beth was harassed by the press after Maggie's picture made the news? Why do they do that to people?"

A sharp pain knifed into Al's head and he was unable to hide it. "Damn it."

Sam reached his hand out and when it passed through Al like passing through air, he was unduly reminded of his uselessness to the Admiral. "You need to go back to bed and rest. I can take care of things here. Anything to tell me before you go?"

"Her parents show up pretty soon. I seem to recall that being rough for some reason."

"I thought you liked them."

"I do. Really terrific people, both of them." Looking at Sam, he was embarrassed to admit, "I don't remember everything. I wasn't paying a lot of attention in case you couldn't tell. Everything hurt, even breathing. You saw what eating was like. Damn, why didn't I have the good sense to die in Nam?"

When pain gets too big, it can explode into anger. Sam reached that limit and turned on the sick man in front of him. "For a smart guy, sometimes you talk really stupid."

It was stupid, but then nothing was making sense to him. He just wanted to get this leap over with. "I'm just feeling a little sorry for myself."

To cover his worry, Sam smiled at the Admiral, "I guess you have a right to, just don't do it too long. I need you here with me."

The pain started making Al dizzy. "Damn it." He turned away from Sam to hide the stabbing in his head and the one in his heart. "Sam, we got to talk before I go back to bed."

The words "back to bed" worried Sam. That was Al's confession, an admission of feeling sick. Al never admitted weakness. "Unless you have some earthshaking news for me, just go get the rest you need. Things here aren't going to move along very quickly, so go to bed. Come back tomorrow, if you can."

"No. We got to talk. I'm in the mood now, but I won't be for long and there are things that need saying." He took a deep breath, but still didn't turn to face Sam; he couldn't. "I think this thing growing in my head is going to kill me. When my father got sick, it was over pretty quickly, four months. I'm thinking this might be the same thing he had."

Sam didn't remember the particulars about Papa Calavicci's death. "He had cancer?"

"Yeah." Al started to pace in a pattern he used only when frustrated, angry, or backed into a corner. "Sam, I made you a promise once. I promised that I'd get you back, but now . . . Can you believe it?" Al had more to say. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm sorry I screwed up."

Don't be ridiculous. "Screwed up? Al, this is a brain tumor we're talking about."

"I made you a promise and I meant it."

Al still couldn't look at his friend so Sam walked around in front of the hologram and made the man look at him. "Listen, you haven't broken any promises to me. If any apologies have to be made, then maybe I'm the one who should make them. I leapt without telling you. I knew the risk I was taking for me, but I didn't stop to think what I'd be doing to you. I let you down, Al. I'm the one who screwed up and I'm sorry."

"So, are we done telling each other how stupid we are? Because if we are, you need to stop talking and hear me out." Sam sighed in defeat. "Okay. I'm making a decision regarding the retrieval program. It seems that our best chance to get you back is to reenact the simo-leap."

It didn't take his six doctorates to know where Al was going with this. "You can't."

"Why not? I'm going to die anyhow. This makes sense. We simo-leap and you come home. Then I become the leaper and everything is right again."

"What about the person you leap into? You want to kill him?"

"I thought about that. You know we can pinpoint landings now. We'll search out some other terminally ill person and leap me into him just before he dies."

Sam was beyond angry. He was real close to God-damned pissed off. "How do you get lightning to strike at the right moment?"

"We'll simulate the lightning strike. It can happen, Sam. We have a couple of months to play with here." Pacing gave him something to do other than think about the pain in his head.

"We could, you could have years. Don't kill yourself off like this. Just wait a little bit."

"No, we can't." His next statement was going to hurt worse than his pounding head. "I want you to make sure Beth doesn't stay with me. I don't want to do this if it means leaving her alone in the future. She wouldn't understand."

"You can't mean it. You want me to keep Bingo and Beth apart so you can die trying to get me back? Are you listening to yourself?" Sam was fuming now. He wanted to whack the hologram upside the head. "This is nuts, Al. Really nuts. You've come up with hair-brained ideas in the past, but this one beats them all. I am not going to let you throw your life away. You don't even have a real diagnosis yet, right?" Al nodded. "Okay. It may not be cancer."

"Don't talk stupid. I know when something isn't right." Breathing got hard, but Al gathered all the energy he could. "Look at Bingo. You think I don't the difference between a tumor and a tension headache? Come on, Sam. It's time for me to die. Don't make it hard. Let me do something meaningful, at least in my death."

Sam knew that his friend, despite all his incredible achievements, fell too far short of his personal expectations. Al was never quite good enough in his own eyes. "You're asking me to take away a chance for you and Beth to be happy and then you want me to help set it up for you to die. Don't you know I can't do it?"

"She deserves a better life. You think about it for a few hours. Beth needs you with her. Dwight and Martha Robertson are visiting. Dwight tells her how they got us out."

Hoping for some preparation for the facts he would be hearing, Sam said, "I guess the rescue was pretty frightening, huh?"

Smirking with more anger than he thought he still had, he said, "Oh, yeah, dumb luck is always scary." The event wasn't spectacular in any way. It was simply a fortunate accident. "They didn't even know we were there." Al fumbled with the handlink and his image blipped out.

Sam was having a lot of trouble on this leap. He left the stairwell with his mind being pulled so many ways. There was a twisted sense to Al's plan. After all, Al was probably dying, but Sam knew he couldn't deny his friend the joy of a happy marriage. Beth would be a tremendous comfort to Al during this cancer ordeal. He made his way back toward Al's hospital room. He opened the door and saw exactly what Al predicted. Dwight and Martha were sitting with Beth. Dwight positioned himself at Al's side and held his hand.

They turned their eyes to the door when Sam entered. "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"That's okay, Jane. You remember Martha and Dwight Robertson, don't you? Captain Robertson was about to tell me how he and Al were rescued."

Dwight shook his head. "It's not much of a story. There were five of us left in camp with 10 guards. It was crazy. The camp was big, too. I guess, from what Al told me, there had been maybe 20 or more men there at one time, back in the early 70's. Anyhow, when I got there in '72, there were nine of us left. At the end, only five. They had all of us in one box. It was maybe six by six and no more than four feet high. We hadn't eaten in days and if it hadn't rained, we wouldn't have had any water at all to drink. Bingo taught me all the tricks to staying alive. Showed me how to catch rain in my mouth so I'd get some water. When they chose to feed us, he showed me how to eat."

Sam was confused. "How to eat? I don't understand."

"The food was real bad and you don't even want to look at it, but you have to eat to survive. Bingo showed me how to take the rice and just one grain at a time, swallow it down." He looked at his buddy, "But it didn't make the rice taste any better, did it?" Al didn't respond. Sam assumed incorrectly that Bingo was asleep. "Anyway, the five of us were crowded into the box and it was pretty obvious something was happening. They took Jim Scoville first and we could hear them beating on him. It was horrible to listen to. Paul Brogan was next, then Bingo. You know, he was the only one of us that never screamed or cried when he was beaten. Sometimes he'd even sing. It made them mad as hell. I don't know how he did it, but they never got him to wimp out. The rest of us did, but not Lieutenant Calavicci." He turned again to Al. "How did you do that, buddy? The next man they took was Pete Montez, but they didn't work him over as long as the others. I'm not sure why. They finally pulled me out of the cage and they didn't beat me at all. They just threw me into the pit."

Beth was hanging on every word. "What's the pit?"

Some things were obvious and Dwight couldn't figure any other way to start his answer. "It was a pit, maybe 12, 15 feet deep and about four feet round. It had an iron grate across the top. There were a lot of pits in the camp, but they threw me into the one where they'd thrown Bingo. He was beat up real bad. His face was more swollen than it is now. We never heard any sounds from the other pits. All we heard was the VC packing up and leaving us there. I figured we were going to die, but Bingo made me promise to stay alive. I really didn't want to try. There was nothing to eat and like I said, we weren't fed anything for a long time. The pit was filled with all sorts of bugs and snakes. Bingo convinced me to eat them." Dwight was getting uncomfortable, but he continued. "Some of the bugs had a lot of juice in them. Down in the pit we didn't have any water and Bingo kept saying water was more important than food. He tried to eat the bugs too, but nothing was staying down. His stomach was bloated so big. When he started vomiting up blood, I thought he would die, but he would start to sing right after." Dwight laughed, "Beth, make sure he doesn't try to make a career in movie musicals. He'd start in singing and I'd have to laugh. He worked real hard at keeping my spirits up. I don't know how many days we were in there. It was at least three or four. We both had dysentery and his fever was bad. Then we began to hear noises. I was really scared, but then I heard voices and they were American, so I yelled and yelled. Some little soldier boy found us and he and his buddies pulled us out. That night we were in the hospital. We were clean, dry, laying in beds. We had food, at least I did. Bingo here was pretty sick. He was getting fed with IVs." The far-off gaze in his eyes changed to incredible intensity. Dwight spoke to Beth's soul. "I would have given up months earlier if he hadn't been there. Giving up is what kills you, even more than the torture and there was plenty of that. Beth, he saved my life."

Tears were staining the faces of everyone in the room except Bingo whose eyes remained closed. Sam surveyed the room. His eyes saw another potential Pulitzer Prize photo, Dwight holding the frail hand of his camp buddy. This was the result of shared pain and agony. As Dwight did with Al, Martha held Beth's hand. Beth tried to be stoic. She asked, "What did they do? I mean, you said torture, that Al was tortured. What did they do?"

Dwight took in a deep breath. "Okay. I guess the most common thing was putting a guy in ropes. That's where they tied your wrists together behind your back and then tied your elbows together. After that they'd, they'd suspend you from your wrists. Sometimes they'd leave you like that for hours. It hurts real bad." He pulled back Al's sleeve exposing the ridge of scars above his elbow. "That's where they tied the ropes. His elbows would be touching behind him. For some reason, probably because he never gave in, he was a regular favorite of theirs. He was in ropes once for more than two days. We had a guy there with some medical training. He snapped Bingo's shoulders back in place. Sometimes they'd beat us with these rubber strips. Bingo said they used old tires to make whips. They used bamboo poles soaked in water. They had cattle prods, too. The electric shock stuff was bad. That's how his teeth got busted out."

Dwight squeezed his eyes against the memory, but continued. "About a year ago, there were only about nine of us still alive, but they brought us all out into the courtyard. They stripped us all and we had to squat in a circle. They dragged Bingo to the center and staked him out. I mean, really staked him out. They pulled his arms and legs so tight you could see the bones pop out of the sockets. And then Bingo sang. Those animals beat him with bamboo poles. His leg was shattered. Bones were sticking through his shin. His leg never did heal right. We were thrown back into our cages, but they left Bingo out there. We all knew he was dead. Then in the middle of the second night, we heard him singing **_Georgia_**. I don't know how many times we heard it, so we all knew the words. One by one the guys joined in." Dwight was laughing and crying now. "It was what we all needed. Bingo gave us back our lives again. The VC didn't own us. Beth, you have to make sure he survives this all right. I know only he and I got out alive, but no one in that camp died without hope. It doesn't sound like much, but it was the only thing we had. Every time one of us died, Bingo would chant his name until we all had it in our minds forever. We knew we wouldn't be forgotten. No one died there thinking he was going to be forgotten and it's because of Bingo." Dwight sobbed and Martha left Beth's side for her husband's. He looked at his wife and said, "I'm sorry, Martha."

Martha comforted her husband. "It's all right, honey. It's all right." She looked at Beth. "Mrs. Calavicci, your husband is quite a man."

Beth's face was blank, no emotion was there. It worried Sam. He went to her. "Beth, are you okay?" She sat, unable to react to the horror Al had survived. "Beth, can you hear me?"

With a short sigh, Beth turned to Sam. "How did he get through that?"

Sam came down to her eye level. "He dreamed of you and sang your song. Al's special. He has been since the day he was born and he even doesn't know it. When he does things like sing **_Georgia_** in the middle of the night, he just does it because it's natural for him. You told me Al was a genius, but his true genius is for life. No one knows more about being alive than he does."

Dwight was listening to Sam. "You talk like you know him really well."

Sam was caught again and mumbled out, "No, not really, but listening to you and Beth, it's pretty obvious what he's like." Sam took the Admiral's wife's hands. "Beth, he needs to be weak now. He needs time where he doesn't have to be strong."

The fear in her eyes made her hands shake. "I don't know if I do that. Why did they torture him?" The facade was falling quickly. "Why? Look at him, Jane. Al can't survive this. No one can." Tears began. Her hand began patting her chest. "My Al is a handsome Navy pilot. This man is . . ." Tears became sobs and her open hand closed into a fist that pounded against her breast. "I don't know him."

Sam pulled her hand down and strongly told her, "Yes, you do. He's still Al and he loves you more than anything in this world. You will not give up on him. Do you hear me?"

Martha joined Sam at Beth's side. "He's going to be a different man, but different doesn't mean his love has changed. His body might not ever recover completely, but give him a chance to come home. I'm asking this for selfish reasons. See, he gave my Dwight the will to come home, so our son and me owe him our lives, too. If you need to lean on people, you can count on me."

"Me, too, Beth," Sam answered.

Dwight joined the group. "And me."

Finally Beth's tears flowed and her face echoed the agony Al lived through. Everyone's attention was on the beautiful, sad nurse. No one noticed the pilot's single tear. It quietly ran down from the corner of his eye. He made no sound, no movement. He only felt the pain of Beth's doubt and his warrior's heart broke for the first time since he married his beautiful wife.


	5. But the Calvary is Here! Why Am I?

**A Promise of Home**

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This Quantum Leap™ story utilizes characters that are copyright © by Bellasarius Productions and Universal Studios. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan fiction story is written solely for the entertainment of the readers and is not for profit. All fiction, plots, and original characters are the sole creations of the author.

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**But the Calvary Is Here! Why Am I?**

Admiral Calavicci exited the Imaging Chamber and sagged into Gooshie's arms. The programmer lowered his leader gently to the floor. Al looked at the bad breath king with more annoyance than usual. "Help me up. I'm going to my quarters." He held his hand up to the Chief Programmer, but Gooshie didn't offer his in return. Al snarled as best he could, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

It wasn't Gooshie's way to argue with the Admiral, so Al was more than a little surprised when the programmer stood up, squared back his shoulders and said, "Nothing is wrong with me, but I don't want you to move until I get an orderly down here. You're going back to the infirmary."

Al stared up at the Chief Programmer and tried a little bit of silly. "I didn't know you cared."

Starting with his new favorite word, Gooshie said, "Well . . ." He was flustered now, "I do care, so stay put." He called out, "Ziggy, tell Dr Sinclair that we need help here with the Admiral." It was obvious Al was in pain. Gooshie knelt next to him, "Help is coming. Please, just hang on."

Al sat, knees to his chest, holding his head with both hands. He tried to alleviate Gooshie's fears. "Don't get your shorts in a knot. I'm fine. My head hurts and under the best of circumstances, you make it hurt anyhow." Gooshie didn't smile. "Now, come on, Goosh. I'm going to be okay. I just got a little headache."

"Admiral, don't lie to me. I know what's wrong with you and to be honest, it worries me." The little guy brushed some crumbs off his lab coat. "Actually, I'm scared."

Al looked up slowly and stared into Gooshie's soul. "Now, you hear this. You cannot be scared." It sounded almost like an order. "I depend on you too much. I'm going to need you more than ever. If I'm laid up for awhile, you'll have to get information to Dr Beckett. I know that's a lot to ask, but I think you're up to it. What do you think?"

The programmer's pride was as puffed up as big as it had ever been. Words of confidence from the Admiral were all Gooshie needed to get back in control of the situation. "I think I'm ready to take care of things for you." Then with a definite change in demeanor he added, "But, please get better, Admiral. I meant it when I said I was scared. If anything happens to you, I don't know what will happen to the rest of us."

With the intensity of a man used to leading others Al whispered, "Don't be scared, Gooshie. I'm not," but he was in pain. "Damned headache." Covering the stabbing in his skull got harder. "You know, I think you're right. I need to get some sleep before I go back to Sam. In the mean time, you work up all the scenarios you can come up with, but focus on Beth and what makes her happy. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do. Lay back, sir. I'll get some help, okay?" Gooshie helped the Admiral lay down on the floor. He took off his lab coat, rolled it up and placed it under the Admiral's head. "We'll get you upstairs in a few minutes. Just try to relax. I'll take care of things here."

"I know you will." His eyes closed and he suddenly appeared much more vulnerable than Gooshie ever thought he could be.

* * *

Sam walked into the small bedroom he inhabited at the Calavicci bungalow and kicked off his shoes. It had been a long, hard day. His own emotions shattered into thousands of pieces. It was very hard to watch Bingo struggle to swallow a teaspoon of food. It was even harder to hear the story of his tortured existence in the camps. Al had never offered that information and Sam had always been hesitant in asking. Certain topics were not to be broached and prison camp was one. Sam sat on the edge of his bed and started taking off the pantyhose he absolutely hated. A timid knock sounded out. "Come in." 

Beth entered Jane's room. She was holding a brown expanding folder. "You busy?"

Struggling as he always did with women's apparel he mumbled with more embarrassment than he thought possible, "Just taking off my pantyhose." The small afghan at the end of the bed was pulled over his lap.

"I want to thank you for today." and she sat on the bed next to Sam. "I wouldn't have made it without you."

"I'm sorry Al is so hurt, but I'm sure he's going to pull through without any physical problems." The comment was easy. The injured lieutenant was going to get better. Sam knew it for a fact.

Beth grinned. "Just like you were sure he'd be coming home and like you were sure that he'd be the one coming home hurt?"

Sam fidgeted. "I guess sometimes I get these premonitions."

"I should have listened to you. Janie, if they didn't tell me it was Al on that gurney, I don't think I would have recognized him." The image of her hero being carried from the transport plane put tears in her eyes again. "He's so small and helpless."

"Al will get better." The comment was closer to being a prayer for the Admiral than a prediction for the lieutenant. "This has been one hell of a day. You have to be beat."

But Beth didn't hear him. She was still with the frail flyboy they told her was her husband. "I didn't expect this. I thought Al and I would be sleeping together tonight. I'm afraid to even touch him, Jane. Skin and bone used to be just a phrase, but he really is just skin and bone."

"Oh, he'll fill out. In no time at all, he'll be flying again."

Her eyes snapped open in fear. "I don't want him ever to go back up. He's going to stop flying. I couldn't take anything happening to him again. No, he's done with the military. He's given enough to his country."

Sam couldn't argue with that point. "Can't say that I blame you, but Al may have other things in mind. He loves flying so much. Who knows? Maybe he can get into the space program. Wouldn't it be great to watch Al fly to the moon?"

"No!" the word was loud, adamant and immediate. She was a little shocked by her intensity, but she continued, "No, it's too dangerous. Al was a friend of Gus Grissom's. Al knows how dangerous the space program is. No, he's grounded forever." Her agitation grew fast.

Taking her hands, Sam told her, "Calm down. There is plenty of time to figure out what he's going to do with his life. Whatever it is, I know it's going to be amazing." He wished he could be there when the NASA conversation came up. Al would have to do some real dancing to convince Beth that going into space was a good idea. The thought made him smile a little

"Anything he decides to do will be amazing, just as long as it doesn't involve flying airplanes or spacecraft." The subject had to be changed. Beth gazed at the folder in her hand. "I was looking at these and thought you might like to see them. These are Al's poems. I don't know if I can find the man who wrote these inside the man they say is my husband. Maybe if you get to know his writing you can help me find him again." She gave Sam a little hug and left.

Sam didn't think Beth could keep Al from flying, but then again, maybe she could. Then his purpose became clear. It now made sense. Sam leaped because Beth was going to make Al stop flying. If Al didn't fly, then his career with NASA was over before it began and that meant Al and Sam wouldn't meet at Star Bright. No Star Bright, then no partnership on Quantum Leap. The Project would be forever changed. At least maybe that was what this leap was about, but he still didn't have any true idea what he was supposed to do in this leap. Until he had more guidance from Al or Gooshie, he was going to read more of the Admiral's writing.

* * *

Al was asleep in the infirmary. Dr Sinclair once again had an IV dripping medication into his arm. He watched the drug flow into the Admiral's arm and adjusted the speed. Verbena came in and before she had a chance to ask, Sinclair looked at her and said, "He's sleeping. Dr. Estes wants us to get him to Albuquerque as soon as possible. She's not optimistic." 

The MD was getting annoying. "Can it, Gary. You don't need to keep telling me he's dying. You've made your point very well and far too frequently. He knows, I know, everyone knows." There was nothing Verbena disliked more than a person who thought he was a big fish in a small pond. There were only two big fish at Quantum Leap and Sinclair and she were not either of them. "This is a hard time for all of us. Dr Beckett's leap alone would be making us crazy, but this wrinkle is more than we ever expected. See, this is the first time that we have had to deal with the possibility of the Admiral and Sam both dying." Gary looked puzzled. "If the Admiral dies, then we have to write off Dr. Beckett, too. Think about it and you'll figure it out."

Pragmatics had their place, but in a world of imaginative minds, the "fact" oriented physician was out of his element. "The Admiral will not survive this cancer. We'll make him comfortable, but that's all we can do."

"Then why take him to Albuquerque? This is his home."

In the middle of all this, Al awoke. He turned toward the Bickersons. His voice wasn't strong, but it was definitely the Admiral. "This is a charming conversation to wake up to. So, are you planning my service yet?" The visitors blushed and turned their faces to the floor. The Admiral figured they were embarrassed beyond belief and so he continued just to watch them itch. "I want lots of music. Maybe the Blind Boys of Alabama. I always liked **_I'll Fly Away_** and this terrific rendition of **_Amazing Grace_** to the melody of **_House of the Rising Son_**." When silence met him, he kept going. "What is wrong with you people? You don't talk about a man's death like this." He started sitting up and saw the IV. "Not again. Get this shit out of me, now. I don't need to be medicated."

Verbena answered first, "Yes, you do. That medication will keep you from having seizures."

It was Gary's turn. "One of the side effects is drowsiness, but consider the alternative."

"Listen to me, both of you. I have an idea. I have to check it out with Gooshie first. Unplug me, Gary." The doctor didn't move. "Here we go again." No one moved. "Unplug me now or I'll do it myself." His hand moved toward the cloth tape on his forearm.

Gary was angry at having no control over the situation. "I'll do it, but you're trying to kill yourself and I don't know why."

"Verbena's the shrink. Leave the Freud stuff to her. You just keep me functional."

"I'm trying, but you're not letting me do my job." He peeled the tape off with a little more ferocity than needed.

The Admiral was getting pissed off, royally pissed off. "I haven't had any seizures, so I don't need seizure medication!"

"It's preventative. I think you'll need it."

"You just said it's a guessing game. Give me pills. I'll take them just like you want, but this is my call. I know the risks I'm taking. I need time to finish this leap, and then I'm yours. I promise."

Verbena looked skeptical. "You're a well-practiced liar, Admiral."

As Dr. Sinclair pulled the needle from the Admiral's vein, the leader looked at the floor and whispered, "Not that well-practiced and death isn't something I lie about, especially my death."

* * *

The bungalow was small and Beth's room right across the hall. She may have tried to hide the sound, but Sam could hear Beth weeping. Tiptoeing to peek in, he saw her on her bed, the think blanket covering her. In her hands, she held a stuffed animal, clutching it, holding it and crying into its soft belly. He was about to go in and see if he could help, but a voice inside told him to let Beth alone. Tears were a necessary indulgence and he didn't want to inhibit their cleansing. 

So, he returned to Jane's room and opened the folder of poetry and began to read. There was always a depth to Al, but Sam had no clue how far inside his soul the Admiral could reach. However, a combination of the hour and the exhaustingly long day had Sam eventually falling asleep in the chair, but waking up in a chair meant a stiff neck. The crick was huge and he took a few minutes to gently stretch the muscles. He could hear Beth moving about in the kitchen. A yawn later, he was moving toward the sound of breakfast.

Beth heard Sam before she saw him. "Good morning, Jane," She finally turned to her and laughed. "Oh, no, you fell asleep in your clothes?"

"I guess so."

"I cut up some fruit. You want some?"

"Sure." Al's devoted wife spooned fruit salad into the bowl. "Beth, I heard you last night. You were crying. I thought it best to leave you alone. I hope I was right."

With a forgiving smile she said, "You were right. I had to think things through. Anyhow, Pluto kept me company."

The sleepy gunk in the corner of his eye had to be rubbed away. "Pluto?"

Beth looked sheepish. "Yeah." She confessed her childish actions. "Al bought Pluto for me at Disneyland. You know, Pluto - Mickey Mouse's dog." Once she said it, she turned crimson. "Yes, I was cuddling a stuffed animal at my advanced age."

Al had found his one true love, a woman who understood and accepted any adult responsibility, but one who could cuddle a toy dog, sing Disney tunes and use words like yuckola. They were soul mates and Sam had all the more ammunition for keeping the couple together. "You two are a pair." Smiling at her was easy. "You are going to have the best life together."

Softly she told him, "I hope so, Jane. I hope so." She placed a bowl of strawberries, blueberries and bananas in front of Sam. "My folks will be in today and maybe together we can figure out a plan for a future."

Looking at his breakfast, he said, "You need any help from me you just ask."

Sitting down Beth smiled, "I will. You've been here for me all along." Wanting to change the subject to something more positive Beth said, "My parents are flying in this morning and coming to the hospital right from the airport."

"That's good. Al likes your parents." Sam heard the words coming from his mouth, but couldn't stop them, so before Beth asked, he told her, "More feelings, premonition stuff."

"You're getting good at that. Al and my folks really get along. He calls them Mom and Dad." The appellations were more than just accepted by Ellen and Stuart Waterston. They reveled in their son's-in-law affection and returned it without a doubt. "I don't know how they'll react to seeing him. My mother hates it when any of us are hurting. Seeing Al will devastate her." Her face reflected the memory of Al's inauspicious homecoming.

Sam took a bite of a strawberry and told Beth, "I read Al's poems last night. I never knew he had this talent."

"You're only the second person who knows that he likes to write." Breaking the confidence of Al's artistic tendencies gave Beth pause, but she wanted someone to know who he was. "Al plays tough and cynical, though he says it realism, not cynicism. Toughness he has a lot of, but, honestly, he's sophomorically sentimental."

Every passing minute made Sam more deeply realize that he would not let Al sabotage his relationship to this wonderful woman. Destiny demanded someone like Beth be a part of Al's life. Once he finished chuckling, he said, "Sophomorically sentimental? Oh, I'm sure he'd love to be described like that, but his stuff isn't sentimental. It's awesome."

"Now, I know he'd love to be described as awesome." They laughed in recognition of Al's pride.

Sam took her hand. "I think I'll put in for a week of vacation time starting today. That way, I can help you out. I know it has to be hard to stay with him all day long. You'll need some break time and if you start now, before you get all tired out, it will be easier in the long run."

"I knew there was a reason I hired you. You're a smart one, Jane."

Sam knew there was so much to talk about, but things had to move slowly so everyone had a chance to absorb the enormity of the situation. It was time to end their talk. "I'm also in need of a shower. How soon do you want to go to the hospital?"

"As soon as you're ready, but take your time. I'll call into personnel and let them know about your vacation. Thanks again for that, Jane. It means a lot to me and I know Al appreciates it too."

Swallowing down the last strawberry in the bowl, Sam rose. "Give me half an hour." A nice long shower eased the ache in Sam's neck. Since he gave Jane a vacation, he dressed in casual clothes figuring Al would respond better to people not wearing anything that looked like a uniform. A pair of blue slacks and a denim blouse topped with a little knit vest seemed appropriate. The outfit also gave him a good reason to wear tennis shoes. High heels were almost the worst thing about leaping into a woman. He put a comb through his hair and went back to the kitchen. Beth was putting the dishes away. They went off together to Balboa Naval Hospital where young Al Calavicci lay hoping for health and happiness.

* * *

Balboa Naval Hospital is a fine institution, but it is an institution. It has to insure its patients are medicated, fed, bathed, etc. All these necessary things have to be done on schedule. After all, the hospital has to function efficiently. The only problem was that patients' emotional issues were relegated to secondary and even tertiary positions when a life hung in the balance. This was the case with young Al. He needed food and since it took too long to help him swallow on his own, a feeding tube was ordered. It made medical sense and the morning shift nurse shuffled in with the equipment. With a patronizing pat on Al's shoulder, she lubricated the flexible tube and began to thread it through his nose. Under the best of circumstances, it is an undignified, painful and ugly procedure. In this case, it was a reminder of past tortures. Al tried to protest. He tried to lift his arms to fight off the offending tube, but the nurse was stronger and she easily stopped the flailing arm. She called for help and another nurse came in with padded restraints to hold Al's arms down. He fought the bonds, but was in a losing battle. All he could do now was surrender to the V who tied him in the tiger cage that kept him bound and imprisoned. At least, that's where Al thought he was, back in Vietnam and the nurses didn't seem to understand his protestations. 

Beth and Sam entered the room and found the two nurses securing straps around Al's wrists. He was confused and a terrified. A panicked expression showed he was back in his VC prison. Sam demanded, "What the hell are you doing?"

The first nurse innocuously said, "A feeding tube was prescribed and we're inserting it."

Beth rushed to unfasten a restraint. Her anger rose, revealed in the escalating volume of her voice. "Don't touch him. How dare you restrain him like this? Do you know where he's been for the past eight years? My God!"

Sam worked on Al's other wrist. "He spent years tied up in a cage. How could you do this to him?" He focused on the desperate patient. "Al, listen to me. You're home. They didn't know. You're not ever going to be shackled again. I promise."

The nurse looked puzzled, "Shackled? We weren't shackling him. It was for his own safety."

It was Beth's turn. She held Al's thickly scarred wrist out for them to see. "Look at this. Don't you ever think of putting any kind of restraint on him again. Do you understand? Lieutenant O'Neill and I will help Al eat. You will not intubate him. It takes time to feed him and I know you don't have time, but you will not restrain my husband simply because it makes your life easier!"

Sam was impressed with Beth's ability to command. She was as powerful in her own way as Al was in his. They were a good pair. This woman could stand up to the Admiral without any problem. Sam was further convinced he was there to keep this marriage together.

The nurses left Sam and Beth alone with Al. Beth threw the restraints at the wall. "How stupid could they get?"

"Beth, don't get all worked up over this. You haven't even said hello to Al yet."

Al's eyes were still filled with fear and unable to focus on where he was. Beth took his hand and put her face close to his. "Good morning, baby." She kissed him. "You're home and safe. You're with me again. Remember?'

He looked at her and recognition came back slowly. "Beth, I came home."

"I know, Al. I'm so proud of you."

His voice faltered. "I kept my promise. Can I die now?" His eyes closed and he began to cough. His body was too weak for the spell and he passed out.

Beth busied herself trying to forget his words. She checked his vital signs. When she found them to be satisfactory, she looked at Sam. "I was expecting today to be easier than yesterday." The specter of his request to die haunted and frightened her.

Sam noticed the fear stiffening Beth's movements. "I don't know if you can plan how each day will be. He's going to need a lot of help for some time, but I know he'll be all right."

The fear in his voice and the fear that it would never change demanded she escape this new prison her husband was in. "Yeah, listen, Jane, will you stay with him for awhile? I want to go check on something." She had already gotten to the door of his room. "I'll be back." Beth was gone. Sam was left alone to deal with this pale version of his future friend.

Sam sat at Al's side and held his hand. "Hi, Al, do you remember me?" Al lay mute and unmoving. "You're not awake, are you?" The lack of movement didn't mean anything. Al might be awake or he might not. In either case, Sam continued, "You need to know that you're going to be fine." Sam went on talking knowing full well that it was more of an inner dialog he was voicing. "You may find this hard to believe, but you're going to be better than all right. Next year, you're going to go off to MIT and get your degree in astronautics and then NASA is going to send you to the moon. You're going to be a big help to me a decade or so from now, but you don't know anything about that now, do you. This is really weird, Al. I mean I know you almost better than I know myself, but you think I'm Jane O'Neill. You have to know I never would have let this happen to you, if I'd known. Saving Tom was really important to me, but not at this cost." Sam straightened out the bed sheet. "God, I wish there was more I could do. You don't know how much you've given me." If Al didn't know, then there would be no better time to tell him. "You gave me my dream. I have to be able to put things right for you here. There's so much you have to accomplish." When there is too much to say, words seem to be harder to find. Sam thought for a moment. "Al, you got to help me again. I don't know how to make this better. You can't be alone in the future. Beth has to be there for you, the Admiral to rely on. I don't want you to go through cancer alone."

The nurse who put the restraints on Al returned with a tray holding a small container of pureed food and a teaspoon. There was apology in her words. "We were only trying to help."

"I know, but he's been through hell the past eight years. A lot of that time, he was restrained and tortured. You didn't know, but please be extra kind here. He has to learn to trust people again and without our help, he may never regain that trust." Sam was thinking about the man he found beating a vending machine with a hammer in 1986. That was a man who had no regard for humanity. That man had no regard for himself.

An understanding nod from the nurse assured Sam that Al would receive more attention to his needs. "I'll mark in his file to take extra time with him and to be gentle."

"Thanks. He's asleep now. I'll help him eat when he wakes up." The nurse left. "So, it's you and me again, Al. What do you think of all this?" The repatriated MIA stirred a bit. "You waking up?" A small sound came out. "Good. Open your eyes, buddy." Al's eyes started to flicker, but Sam could tell that he didn't recognize his surroundings. "You're at Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego. You're home, lieutenant."

Al stuttered. "No. A trick."

"This isn't a trick. You're home and safe."

Sam wasn't sure Al heard anything he was saying. The young lieutenant's eyes stared blankly ahead focusing on nothing in particular. He whispered, "Water, water."

The pitcher on the bed stand was filled with ice water. Sam pulled a few ice chips out and slipped them in Al's mouth, but the thin body wasn't used to cold. He started to choke. Sam put his arm behind Al's back and helped him lean forward. The little bit of ice that was left spilled out. A thin ribbon of red started dripping down his chin. "I'm sorry." He helped Al back down onto the bed. "You okay?" Pulling a tissue from the bed stand, Sam wiped away the blood Al coughed up with the ice.

Al was out of breath. "Let me die."

In a voice he thought only he could hear, Sam muttered, "No wonder Beth leaves you."

From behind him, he heard Beth say, "Leave him? What are you talking about?"

This time there was no way to cover, so Sam changed the subject. "He's coughing up blood."

Beth turned into a nurse and started taking care of the medical issues at hand. It was easier than dealing with her feelings and Sam knew that. It may not have been the wisest decision he made, but it got him past the awkwardness of her unexpected arrival. The bleeding was nothing serious, but Sam needed a way out of the room, "I'll go get a staff nurse." His exit was quick.

* * *

The Admiral was pushing his limits big time. While walking down the corridor, he kept up all the appearances of a healthy man and only those who truly knew him could tell that his step was slower, his concentration just slightly off, his headache growing. Verbena wouldn't leave his side which annoyed him. "Don't you have something else to do? What about Jane O'Neill. A lot of women get really upset when they see Sam's body." 

With an affect as flat as she could muster, she told him, "Jane is fine. She's asleep."

"Drug induced?"

"Yeah, so? You should be in the same state."

"If you're going to shadow me, then be quiet and let me do what I have to do." Al made his way into his office. He parked himself in front of the computer terminal and started inputting scenarios. Verbena sat in the chair across from him and simply watched. After a few minutes he looked up, "Can't you do that elsewhere? I'm doing private stuff here. That means I need privacy."

"I can be quiet." She sat like a Catholic school girl waiting for mass to begin.

The image wasn't lost on the lapsed former altar boy. "You can also be irritating. Verbena, I have some scenarios to run and I don't want you here when I run them."

"Admiral, you need an ally right now and I'm it. Please, tell me what you're planning."

He wanted her to know. He really did and there wasn't ever going to be a right time, so he plowed ahead and just prayed she'd understand. "I'm working on getting Sam back home."

"We all are."

"But I have something that might work." Al knew he needed help. "You have to promise to be objective. I've got a plan and you're not going to like it. I'll let you in on it if you promise to keep it quiet until I say otherwise." He took her silence as a yes and proceeded to tell her the plan she outlined earlier for Sam. "That way I die in his body, the person I leap into dies in my body, Sam gets home and no one is hurt." Nothing was said for a full 10 seconds. "What do you think?"

And she thought there was no such thing as a stupid question. "You're out of your mind."

He couldn't understand why people didn't see the beauty in his plan. "What happens to Sam if I die?" If she didn't hear the plea, he wasn't going to let her in on it. He continued, "You know the answer. So if I try chemo, radiation, surgery, whatever and it fails, then Sam doesn't have a chance in hell to come back. My way, only I have to die."

"You don't know your chances for survival."

Looking at the ceiling the Admiral demanded, "Ziggy, tell Dr. Beeks the odds of me surviving six months."

The sultry computer spit out the statistic, "With the current test results available, I can predict that Admiral Calavicci's chance of surviving six months are 2.35 percent."

Verbena objected, "That's without treatment. What are the odds if you begin treatment as soon as possible?"

The computer wasn't much help. "The odds of surviving increase to 6.24 percent, though they return to 2.77 percent at 12 months."

Al sat back in his chair, triumphant in the news of his impending death. "Kind of weird, isn't it." Verbena looked puzzled. "I'm actually happy that I only have a 6 chance to survive. This makes it easy obvious that my plan is the best option we've had presented to us."

"Any plan that includes your death is not an option. What about the poor schmuck you leap into? Are we supposed to sit around and watch him die?"

"Right before I leap, I take a lethal dose of something that will kill 'the schmuck' painlessly." Despite the language, there was no sign of jest on the Admiral's face. He was physically and mentally sober and it was exactly that fact that frightened Verbena. He stood and moved in front of her, sitting on his desk. "Listen, kid, I know this doesn't sit right with you doctor types, but there comes a time when you have accept your mortality. This is my time."

"I can't believe that."

"Sam leaped into a Native American kid once to help his grandfather die. The good Dr. Beckett's medical training didn't want to let go of the old man, but Sam finally saw that the right thing wasn't necessarily the easy thing. Sometimes, death is the most logical, practical, and humane way. The kicker is, it gets Sam home." She still wasn't convinced. "I've gone through too much and, actually," his heart felt a sense of peace, "I'm ready now."

Verbena was shaking her head through his entire speech. "How can you be ready?''

"There's nothing more I have to prove and the only thing I have to do is get Sam back. This is perfect. Can't you see the beautiful logic here?"

Tears were in her eyes. "Admiral, don't give up this easy."

"Give up? Sam leaped how many years ago? It's been a long, long time. Every minute of my life is centered on getting him home. This is the first time a practical solution has presented itself. Verbena, I'm dying. Right now my mind works. I don't want this to go on too far and then my brain turns to cold polenta and I can't think straight."

"Well, you're not thinking straight now."

"Yes, I am. I figured this all out maybe a year ago, but I never told anyone except Ziggy." He faced the air, "Right, Babe?"

Ziggy chimed in with her sexiest voice. "Oh, I love when you call me babe."

"I was waiting until something happened, something like this. See, I wasn't going to kill myself and if I became the leaper, we'd be in a similar fix and Beckett would kill himself just to get me back. Now there is an answer and Ziggy, tell Verbena when I came up with this plan."

"Admiral Calavicci worked through this scenario shortly after Dr. Beckett and he simo-leaped."

Al smiled at Verbena. "See, this isn't the plan of someone just diagnosed with a terminal illness. This is something I figured out a long time ago. The timing has never been better."

"No, Admiral. Don't do this. Please." She buried her head in her hands. He took her into his arms. "I don't want you to die."

"It's okay, sweetheart. You just keep on crying, so long as those are happy tears." He held her close. It comforted her and hid the immense pain was driving through his head. "It's okay, Verbena. Everything will work out fine,"

She felt his body tense up and pulled back to see his face tightened in a grimace "You're in a lot of pain."

The lightning flashing in his eyes made her statement seem silly. "And it's only going to get worse. Help me, please. Help me get Sam back."

Verbena stood up and gently eased the Admiral into the chair she was sitting in. "You can't be working like this. You're too sick."

In a typical move, he put both hands to his temples trying to stem the dizziness that started to overwhelm him. "I remember something my father told me once." Affecting an Italian accent he said, "Alberto, cancer is a shitty disease." He flashed a wicked smile and then bowed his head. "Verbena, I want to get some sleep, and if you can believe it, alone."

Still cracking jokes. She helped him up and led him slowly to the leather couch across the room. By now, his eyes were closed and he was completely under her control. "Take it easy, Al. The couch is right here." As he lay down, Verbena looked around for something to cover him, but this was the Admiral's office, not hers. There was no afghan decorating the back of the overstuffed chair. He didn't seem to mind because in a matter of seconds he was asleep.

* * *

Sam walked around the outside grounds of Balboa. A bench was parked under a tree and he sat down. The things buzzing around in his head were overwhelming. He learned too much too fast and he couldn't process it. He hated this leap. Seeing Al all beaten up and wanting to die, seeing Beth struggling to find her courage, seeing the Admiral abandoning his fight against cancer before he'd begun - it was all too much to think about, but that was his job. There had to be a solution to it all. What he needed was input from Al and Ziggy, but that wouldn't be coming. 

It was only 10 o'clock and Sam was tired. Of all the leaps he had been on, he couldn't remember any of them being this disquieting. The more he thought about what was happening, the more he saw a kind of sense in Al's goofy scheme. That scared him. The thought of finally being home was tempting. If Al was terminal, why not use that as a means to an end? Then another cliché came to mind, the end justifies the means. He hated that cliché.

He gazed down the walk not really noticing anything or anybody until a cab pulled up to the entrance and an older couple stepped out. It didn't take anything more than a quick glance to see that this man and woman were Beth's parents. The family resemblance was eerie. Even though he didn't know what he could do, he thought it best to intercept them before they got to Al's room. With quick step, he caught up to the Waterston's as they entered the building "Excuse me, but you're Beth Calavicci's parents, right?"

Her father answered. "Yes. Where is Beth?"

"I'll take you to her in a minute." Sam guided the couple toward the couches in the entry. "Please, let's sit down. I think you need to know some things before you go up."

Mrs. Waterston accepted Sam's invitation. Her face looked anxious, filled with fear and yet with delight. Her son-in-law was home. "Are you Janie?'

Sam had forgotten to introduce himself. He apologized. "I'm sorry. Yes, I am. I was with Beth when she met Al's plane."

Mrs. Waterston burst into tears. "He's really home? And alive? I have to see him." A well used handkerchief wiped her eyes, apparently again.

"She's been crying for hours." Mr. Waterston smiled and put his arms around his wife. "My name is Stuart. My wife is Ellen. It's nice to meet you Janie."

"My pleasure. I'm so glad Al has family like you that cares so much, but there are some problems you may not know about."

Ellen nervously took Stuart's hand. "Beth said he was doing well. We figured he'd probably be thin and maybe a little weak."

"It's more than that, much more. The Navy got his name mixed up with the other man they rescued. Al is very sick and badly hurt."

Stuart, ordinarily a matter-of-fact kind of guy, started to get as agitated as his wife. "Beth is a nurse. He'll get better."

Sam knew that he would, but he had to respond as Janie. "He's in very bad shape. My personal feeling is that he'll come through this, but he won't be the same man you remember."

Al's in-laws stared at each other. Ellen asked, "Does he have his arms and legs?"

"Yes. All four limbs are intact. They've been broken and shot up, but they're still where they should be. I think I just want you to know that this is going to as hard on Beth as it is on Al. They both need to heal from this. Al's body has been beaten so badly, but he can overcome that. It's the emotional and psychological healing that will take time and a lot of help and understanding."

Stuart couldn't quite figure out what Sam was trying to tell them. "I think we should find Beth and Al. The boy has been waiting too long for his family."

Sam laughed. He hadn't heard any one ever refer to Al as "the boy" before and he loved the affection it indicated. The trio made their way through the hospital to Al's room. By the time they got there, a flurry of activity made it impossible to enter. Sam tried to catch the arm of a nurse going in. "What's happening?"

"He's hemorrhaging." She continued in.

Ellen and Stuart wanted to go in as well. Sam stopped them. "Let me go in first. I'll get Beth."

Sam pushed into the room and found three nurses and a doctor trying to stop Al's pathetic cough. Each noise he made brought up a mouthful of blood and his body didn't have any to spare. Beth stood with her back to the wall just watching in stunned shocked silence. The medical team was helping Al. Beth froze and Sam wanted her out of there.Blocking her view of the rescue team, he whispered in her ear, "Beth, your mom and dad are here. They're outside. Come with me. Al's in good hands."

As soon as Beth saw her mother and father, she collapsed in their arms and cried like a very little girl. They held her. Sam led the group to the waiting area at the end of the hall. Beth was still crying, her head buried deep in her mother's shoulder. With each sob she told more of Al's story. Her parents listened and couldn't believe the hell his tenacity and sheer strength of character allowed him to survive. Ellen kept muttering, "The poor boy."

Stuart simply got angry. "That damn war. Our best men come back like this. It's not right. It just isn't right, damn it."

Inwardly Sam smiled knowing that Al did indeed have a family here, not only a wife. There was no way he would purposely ruin this chance for Al. Sam would deal with the consequences of the Admiral's ire later. Right now, he had to work out a way to keep the lieutenant and his wife together, though he felt the addition of Beth's parents just might be all that was needed. He half expected to leap out at that moment, but still no blue leap light formed around his body. He was still Janie and still puzzled as to why.


	6. Face to Face

**A Promise of Home

* * *

**

This Quantum Leap™ story utilizes characters that are copyright © by Bellasarius Productions and Universal Studios. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan fiction story is written solely for the entertainment of the readers and is not for profit. All fiction, plots, and original characters are the sole creations of the author.

* * *

**Face to Face**

The Admiral woke up on the couch in his office, drenched, having sweated clear through his hunter green silk shirt. It pasted itself to his body and felt cold and uncomfortable. The only light came from the digital clock announcing it was past midnight. He could barely make out Verbena curled up in his big leather desk chair. It made him smile to hear a sweet little wheezing snore from her. Trying carefully not to wake her, he made his way out of the room and toward his apartment for a change of clothes.

The walk to his place wasn't that long, but each step was fought for and hard won. His head hurt like hell and the damp silk sticking to his skin chilled his bones. A hot shower helped a lot, even if it did tire him out. Then his favorite loose-fitting cotton sweater slipped over his head, though virtually all his clothes were loose-fitting now. The effort required a few minutes of rest.

Sitting in his favorite chair, he leaned back and dragged his bare feet up on the ottoman. His fingers went to his forehead and lightly massaged his headache. From out of the comer of his eye, he caught sight of the scar encircling his left wrist and he automatically began rubbing it instead.

A yawn brought him back to this reality and his job. The effort to put on socks and shoes required a few more minutes of rest time and it pissed him off. He was going down fast and he realized that not only was his life ending, it was ending soon. His hands grabbed the arms of the chair and pushed a lot harder than he thought necessary. Rising slowly and with a groan, he made his slow way toward the Control Room. Ziggy slid open the door for him and he reached for the handlink. "Gooshie, where's Sam now?"

"With Beth and your in-laws. The young you is bleeding right now and they're waiting to hear from the doctors."

This was not good timing, but he had to get to Sam. Maybe Ziggy could give him something. "You have anything new for me, Zigala?"

The sexy computer answered, "I'm afraid that any projections on my part would be pure speculation."

That seemed obvious. "Yeah, so? We always work on odds."

"That's not what I mean, Admiral. You're the one controlling the outcome here. What I predict is meaningless. Everything depends on your personal decisions."

The idea that he was in control almost knocked him off his feet which wouldn't have taken much anyhow. He leaned against the console to steady his weak legs. "What about GodTimeFateWhatever?" The possible controllers of Sam's leaps had long ago turned into one long **Mary Poppins** word.

The computer spoke with a touch of arrogance. "GodTimeFateWhatever has placed the responsibility for this leap in your hands, Admiral Calavicci. I suggest you act with restraint and great care. You're going to affect a lot of lives by your actions."

A reproach from a computer, even if it was Ziggy was more than he needed to hear. "Shut up, you refugee from the Matrix." With as strong a step as he could muster, he marched into the air-conditioned Imaging Chamber, shook with the chill, and ordered, "Center me on Sam."

Ordinarily the slight spinning sensation didn't bother him, but with the pounding in his head, he fought to stay on his feet. When he landed, he found Sam sitting across the waiting room from Beth, Ellen and Tom. Sam didn't hear him enter until the Admiral whispered, "Mom and Dad."

Seeing the Admiral delighted Sam's heart, but his friend looked so sick that the delight did not last more than a few seconds. Turning to the Waterston family, Sam said, "I'll be right back." It was Al's cue to follow Sam which is exactly what he did. When safely away from people Sam turned to his best friend. "What are you doing here? You look like hell."

"Listen, I'm breaking my ass trying to get you through this leap. I don't need you crabbing at me. Understand?" Sam felt a bit of shame. He hadn't meant to put Al on the spot. The Admiral continued, "Why don't all of you see that what I'm doing is right?" The tirade by was completely unwarranted and triggered by fatigue, fear, PTSS, and pure pain. "It isn't fair to put Beth through this again. She lives through it now. I can't do it to her again in the future. Damn it. Why can't you see?"

Sam wanted to help Al to a chair and calm him down, but he couldn't touch the hologram and his own pain, pain of heart jumped up another notch. "Please, Al. I'm sorry. This is hard for me, so I can't imagine what you're going through."

"I got to sit down." Without anymore warning, he practically fell down to the floor. For Al the floor was in the Imaging Chamber. For Sam it was the middle of a back hallway, not the best spot to be talking. "Al, I'm going to a park bench outside about 50 yards from the front door. Center yourself there. I'll meet you." He watched Al access the handlink and blip out.

The elevator was past the waiting room where Beth was sitting. He stopped in to talk to her. Al's sad wife was now in her father's arms. She hid in his big embrace and still whimpered. Ellen held Beth's hand. He definitely was excess baggage here. "Beth, I want to go for a short walk. I promise I won't be long."

The Admiral's mother-in-law spoke up, "Can I walk with you to the elevator?" While drying a tear on Beth's cheek, Ellen assured her daughter, "I'm just going down the hall. Will you be okay?" Beth nodded.

Sam and Ellen walked along the hollow sounding corridor. "I want to thank you for what you've done for Beth. She told us how supportive you've been."

"I'm just sorry Al came home so badly hurt."

"Beth isn't very coherent right now. Can you tell me, is Al . . ." Words caught in her throat. "Oh, I can't even say it. We prayed every day he would come home to us. Then when Beth called, it was a miracle. He is such a miracle. Is he going to die?"

Again, Sam knew the truth and revealed it to this terrified mother in the only way that made sense. "No one can say for certain, but I have strong feelings he's going to make it and he's going to do great things with his life. Don't count him out, yet."

Ellen felt comfort in Sam's words and that pleased them both. "Thank you, Janie." She hugged Beth's and now her best friend.

The elevator door opened and Sam left to meet up with Al.

From his perspective, it looked like Al was sitting under a tree near the bench Sam mentioned. It was a great spot for them to work things through. Sam sat next to the ill Admiral and said nothing. He didn't know what to say and rather than stick his foot in his mouth, he opted to wait for a cue from his friend.

Al, on the other hand, was trying to feel well enough to convince Sam that screwing up his marriage to Beth and letting him become the leaper were both sensible options. So they sat, saying nothing and wondering exactly what could be said. The silence finally ended up being too noisy for Al and he asked Sam, "Why don't you want to come home?"

It wasn't a matter of what he wanted. Certainly, he wanted to be back at the project, in his real time, but the plan Al was suggesting was impossible for him to agree to. "I can't do that by having you commit suicide."

"I'm terminally ill." He gulped down a big breath, "Which is politically correct for 'I'm dying.' How is that suicide?"

It was a good question and Sam had no answer. "I don't know, but you're giving up hope and that isn't like you. Look at you now, I mean at Bingo. He didn't give up and he made it."

Al had to smile at that. People were quick to believe he had been kissed by God and given some kind of divine strength of heart, but it wasn't so. He survived because he knew he only had two options, dying or living and he didn't want to die alone, lonely, and terrified. He survived the hell of Vietnam out of fear of being forgotten and left behind, not courage. People just didn't seem to understand. "You're mistaking terror for bravery, kid. I was too scared to die. It would have been better if I had, but I didn't have the guts."

"That makes no sense at all."

"That's because you weren't there. I know leaping hasn't been easy for you and I don't mean to compare our experiences. I know you've had to face a lot of fear, but so far, I haven't seen anything that compares with what we went through. You get a break. Some leaps are fun. You play ball, you get the girl, you save a life. For us, it was wondering from day to day if we were going to get food. I didn't know if the water they gave me to drink was going to make me sick. They did that sometimes, gave us bad water so that we could spend hours with heaves so bad we'd end up tossing blood. You didn't know if you'd wake up to a day of being whipped or maybe staked out under the sun stripped naked, smeared with honey so the red ants would crawl into every opening you had and bite." The memories weighed on his already weary shoulders. His body sagged even more and the disappointment in himself took its toll. Sarcasm wasn't easy to miss. "Yeah, I was brave and courageous. Big fucking deal. If I had any sense, I would have died and made everybody's life easier."

This conversation was one Sam never anticipated having with his dear friend. This wasn't Al Calavicci, not the man he knew. "You're not thinking straight right now. Maybe it's the tumor or seeing yourself here at Balboa, I don't know, but you have to stop this."

"Why? If I could change anything about this leap, I'd make it so I die now." That's when the light went on in Al's mind. "That's it, Sam. You don't have to make me divorce Beth. It will be easier for everyone if you make it so I die here. That way she doesn't feel like it was her fault when it's really mine. She can be a war widow." The idea gave him more energy than he thought he had left. "And if I die, she'll get all my benefits. I got nearly 180 thousand when I got home. It can be hers and she can marry again." As quick as the boost came, it flew away. His eyes closed under the weight of keeping them open. "This is perfect."

Panic heaved through Sam's body from his head to his toes. "If you die now, then what about Quantum Leap? I can't do this without you."

"Then maybe you'll end up home with no memory of me at all." He punched code into the handlink. "Ziggy says that's what would happen." A few more seconds at the handlink gave Al even more ammunition, "And you won't leap early. Sam, you won't leap early. This is even more perfect. Figure a way to kill me now, in your time." The Admiral was hurting in heart, mind and body. His failing eyes pleaded, "Please give me this gift."

The ludicrousness of the situation was beyond all understanding for Sam. With language he never thought he could use, Sam yelled at his best friend. "I will not murder you in any God damn time line! Got it?"

Imploring eyes turned angry. "Yeah, I got it. When you want something for yourself, no problem, but when it comes to me or anyone else, screw it."

The accusation stabbed Sam. "Now you're talking stupid."

Sam could see another light bulb click on is Al's very ill brain. The hologram accessed the handlink and with each answer, punched in another query. A malevolent smile crossed his face. "Good. I'll take care of it." Al vanished from Sam's sight leaving the leaper trying to figure out what the hell the Admiral meant.

* * *

The hullabaloo ended and Bingo rested quietly, more pale and more drawn looking, if that were possible. A nurse and an orderly cleaned away the bloody sheets. Ellen entered to see her son-in-law for the first time since his return. She couldn't believe what she saw. Part of her wanted to hold him in her arms and cradle him like the pathetic child he resembled, but concern for his fragile body stopped the thought cold. The massive hurt on his face made her mother's heart cry and instinct took over. She sat at his side, picked up his hand and put her face close to his. There was nothing she could say or do to help, so she did what comes naturally to any mother comforting her child. She sang, just in time to have the Bingo's future version pop in unseen. 

Like Beth, Disney tunes were near the top of the list and in her own sweet voice she began, "Baby mine, don't you cry. Baby mine, dry your eyes." The Admiral popped in hoping Bingo was alone, but instead, there was the only mother figure in his life treating him with kindness he rarely experienced from his biological mother. Ellen kept singing, " Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine."

The sound was more than Bingo wanted to believe could be true, his red eyes struggled open and he turned toward the comforting voice beside him. With whispers he said, "Mom? Mom?" The Admiral cringed at hearing his young self revert to a hurting little boy calling out for a mother.

It didn't seem to bother Ellen at all. If anything, it gave a focus to her actions. "I'm here, honey. You're back home with us."

A little boy confessed, "It hurts."

"Oh, I know, but the hard part is over. Beth and I and your Dad will be right here for you."

The Admiral shook his head. He knew that he was throwing away the love these glorious people wanted to shower on him. Walking to the other side of the bed, he started talking to Bingo hoping that Ziggy's odds were correct and somehow, the young version would hear. "Can you hear me?" Bingo didn't move his gaze from Ellen. "Come on. I got a 78 percent chance you can hear me and it better be good enough." With that, Bingo started to turn toward his alter ego. The Admiral, encouraged by the movement, kept talking. "You have to listen to me. If you live, Beth's life will be all messed up. If you really love her, you'll die now."

Bingo softly said, "I love Beth. I really love her."

The quiet comment filled Ellen's sad heart with a kind of peace. "I know, baby. She knows, too."

The Admiral had to ignore Ellen. Even looking at her made him doubly realize what he was giving up. "You got to listen. It's time to give up. If you die, it frees Beth. Do you understand?"

Some connection burst into being between both Al Calaviccis. The broken young man reflected the Admiral's sentiment. "I have to die."

The Admiral made contact and continued before it was lost. "Right, you do that and everything will work out."

Ellen argued, "No, you can't die now, Al. There's too much ahead for you and Beth. Your life is just beginning."

Admiral Calavicci, embittered by the loss of his Beth years earlier, bullied the young lieutenant. "Do you know who I am?" Bingo started to look toward Al. "Look at me, Lieutenant." Finally their eyes met and Bingo recognized the impossibility standing next to him. "You're not crazy. I am you. I'm the only one who's never lied to you, so you hear me out. It's time that you do something right for once. It won't take much to die. All you have to do is give up."

His sudden return to civilization already twisted Bingo's mind into pretzels. Seeing his own image tell him to die confused him more. He reiterated, "I have to give up."

Ellen stroked his face and smiled. "No, you don't. Giving up isn't your way. That's why you made it home after all these years."

"She doesn't know what she's talking about." Al hadn't planned on this encounter with Bingo ending up a debate.

The door to the hospital room opened bringing Beth and Stuart in on the situation. Ellen rose and directed Beth to Al's side. "Honey, he needs your help. He's talking about wanting to die."

Beth leaned over and kissed him. "You can't die now. I won't let you. You understand."

His commander's voice growled out with authority. "If you love Beth, you'll die, Lieutenant and die soon."

Pained eyes looked at Beth, "He says I have to die to make you happy."

"Who says, Al?"

The truth made no sense, but he stammered, "Me, I think."

It wasn't going how the Admiral wanted. "Great. Now they're going to think you're crazy."

Bingo stood his ground as best he could. "I'm not crazy."

The crowd grew by one when Sam entered. Beth tried to soothe Bingo's growing agitation. "No one thinks you're crazy, Al."

"I have to die." Al started coaching his counterpart, "Because if I die." And the voices almost became unison, "Because if I die, you can remarry and have the life you deserve."

As Bingo reiterated Al's words, Beth shook her head saying, "No, no, no. I only want you."

Sam had to talk to the Admiral. Addressing young Al, he asked, fully knowing the answer, "Where is the person that's saying you should die?" Bingo's skeletal fingers pointed to Al's location. "Can I talk to him?"

The Admiral was losing ground and he knew standing up to Sam was going to be hard. "Don't do this to me, Sam. For God's sake, don't. Please, let me die and make things right."

Bingo nodded, giving Sam permission to talk to the hologram. Facing this friend, Sam started in. "Listen, now. I want you to hear me out. Giving up is not an option for the lieutenant. It never was before and won't be now. How dare you say deserting people who love you is the right thing to do? What kind of arrogance is that?"

The Admiral hated Sam's words. "Sam, stop it, please. It's the only way."

Pointing to the sick man on the bed he asserted, "He's going to have kids. You want those children to never be born? Think about how special those kids will be."

Stuart thought Sam's game was a group activity and joined in. "The man I know won't give up anyhow. He's got more courage than that. To hell with you, whoever you are. Let him alone. I want my son here with me, so get lost and go bother someone who thinks dying solves problems."

For the first time since he knew Admiral Calavicci, Sam saw the weight of tears drop his friend to the floor. "Sam, it hurts too much. No one knows how bad it is. Let me take the easy way out for once, please."

Sam knelt next to his fallen buddy. "You need help and Beth, Ellen and Stuart can be there for you. The easy way is to let them into your life, not shut them out. Can't you see that?"

Beth had no image of Admiral Calavicci to validate her friend's actions. To her, it all looked bizarre. "Janie, what are you doing?"

"Grasping at straws." Taking Bingo's other hand Sam declared, "The stuff that man told you was stupid. He's not thinking straight. That happens sometimes when you're sick and he's very sick. Thing is, he doesn't want help from the people who love him the most. I think that's really sad. He could have so much and he's willing to settle for less than nothing. You have to make up your own mind, Lieutenant, but I think it's an easy decision, don't you?"

Al got to his feet, punched in some code and vanished again. Sam worried that he'd gone too far. It especially worried him when Bingo, like Al had a few moments earlier, began to cry. In his condition, that kind of emotional release could achieve the Admiral's goal.

With more authority than he had actual claim to, Stuart informed everyone, "He's gone and he won't come back."

* * *

Verbena grabbed the handlink and then supported her leader as he slumped to the floor. He wasn't interested in any help and let her know. "Leave me alone. I'm fine." 

"You don't look fine to me." She tried to keep him down.

He managed to get onto his hands and knees. "Get the hell away from me."

There were times when Al's stubbornness was authoritative and even comforting to those who were less used to the stress of command, but then there were the occasions when he simply was a mule and no amount of carrots would get him moving in an appropriate direction. Usually, Verbena just let him ride out those times, but this was different. His life was in jeopardy and compromise on her part was not possible. "Admiral, you know I have medical authority here. If I have to, I'll declare you incompetent. How does that sound?"

Before responding, he worked himself back onto his feet. His eyes burned with anger and she knew it. The quiet in his voice was more terrifying than his yelling especially since his eyes had popped blood vessels and red corneas bore into her. "Fuck you. No one takes away my command. Now, how does that sound?"

As sick as he was, it still didn't take much for Al to be intimidating and it worked. "Okay, but please, listen to me. If you want your plan to work, then you need time to get the details straight. Working this hard will only get you dead faster. Please, get some rest."

There was no way he'd admit her warning made sense, so he simply told her, "I'll be in my quarters."

She wanted to go with him, make sure he got home safely and especially make sure he got into bed for much needed and deserved rest, but hell would host the winter Olympics before that happened. Once out of her sight, she spoke to Ziggy. "Monitor the Admiral and keep me informed of his whereabouts, but be discreet."

"I'm always discreet, Doctor, especially when it comes to the Admiral."

* * *


	7. A Promise of Home

**A Promise of Home**

* * *

This Quantum Leap™ story utilizes characters that are copyright © by Bellasarius Productions and Universal Studios. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan fiction story is written solely for the entertainment of the readers and is not for profit. All fiction, plots, and original characters are the sole creations of the author.

* * *

**A Promise of Home**

The doctors conferring outside Al's room shook their heads. They didn't know how he managed to survive. They had little experience in treating someone beaten the way Al was. It was becoming painfully obvious to Beth, her parents, the doctors and nurses, and Sam that the only way Lieutenant Calavicci would survive is if he chose to. It was in Al's and God's hands now.

Beth took her parents home late in the afternoon. She would return in the evening to spend the night at her husband's side. In the mean time, Sam waited with his young friend. Comforted by the slow, but steady rise and fall of his chest, he watched the lieutenant sleep. After the morning's hemorrhage, it was decided that his stomach couldn't tolerate sufficient amounts of food to help him gain weight, so an hour of minor surgery implanted an IV shunt near his right collar bone. Through it, nourishment pumped into his system. Sam had to concentrate in order to see the person under all the wires and monitors. It was a science fiction scene from some medical horror story. Even knowing Al made it through this trauma only slightly diminished the anguish of the moment.

Many leaps earlier, Sam leaped into Al and had inhabited a younger version of the body that now lay before him. It was fit, strong and quite good-looking. This apparition was a distance from the Bingo Sam lived with. Three hours later, Sam saw Bingo's eyes blink a little and start to open. The room was filled with soft light and Sam moved, making a bit of noise, hoping not to alarm the frightened pilot. Making sure Al had seen him first, he smiled and began speaking. "Hi there. You had a pretty long snooze. Feeling any better?"

His throat was raw from the morning's hemorrhage. "Who are you?"

"I'm Jane O'Neill, Beth's best friend. I'm a nurse. Do you remember where you are?"

Bingo had to think a moment. "I'm back in the states."

"That's right. Beth and your in-laws are having dinner and getting some rest. I'm going to stay with you until they come back."

"Please keep talking. If this is a dream, I want it to go on."

He put his hand against Al's fevered face and gently brushed back his hair. "No dream, Al. This is real. You're home with Beth, your family, and with me." A smile put a spark of life in Al's eyes and Sam knew his friend was finally starting to come home. "Hey, you look good with a grin. You need to do that more often." That only made Bingo's smile grow bigger. Sam tried to think like Janie and said, "Beth was right. You are a good-looking kid."

Al knew a line when he heard it, but he tried his best to wink and told Janie, "Thanks for the lie."

* * *

The Admiral woke up after five hours having again sweated through his silk pajamas. Even the sheets on his bed were damp with perspiration. The drenching night sweats were a regular part of his life now. He didn't feel that much more rested after this sleep and cursed his disease as he dragged himself to the shower.

When he drew in a deep breath, it shuddered rather than filled his lungs. More reason to be afraid, just what he needed. Out loud he begged God, "If You're really watching over me, get me through this and I'll never ask You for another favor again."

His mood was dark and he took similar clothes from his closet, Black slacks and black shirt. Recalling how much colder the Imaging Chamber felt to him, he pulled a jacket out too, a red and black one he always liked. The effort of dressing forced him to stop and catch his breath. None of this was supposed to be hard and his frustration level was rapidly disintegrating.

All the different scenarios bolted through his mind like stabs of summer lightning. How was he supposed to make a decision without GodTimeFateWhatever guiding him and Ziggy? There weren't any statistics to help him here. This leaping about in time may have righted wrongs for some, but it only seemed to muck up his life.

It was the damn leaping that got him into his current mess. In an earlier leap, Sam's brother was going to die. Al had to choose between giving up his freedom and remaining MIA for five more years or letting Tom Beckett die. The decision to save Tom seemed right at the time. He knew he'd get out of Vietnam alive, but he hadn't remembered all the ramifications until he returned to his own time. The five years of torture following Tom's salvation took more than skin. Each day in captivity picked at his soul leaving him more and more void of humanity. Beth deserved a better man than he had become. That leap was long past though and he couldn't change it.

Still feeling more tired than he should, Al plodded back toward the Control Room. It was late morning. The digital display at the elevator proclaimed in ugly green light that it was 9:37. The whole contingent of Project staff would be hanging around and watching each move, waiting to see him stumble, Focusing his strength and energy was more important than ever. Before he put his hand on the entry panel, he drew his shoulders up and back, and raised his chin. He might be sick, but he wasn't defeated.

His steps were long, strong and completely faked, but he managed to impress Gooshie and the other technicians standing about. "Where's Sam?"

Gooshie checked the console, "He's with you in the hospital."

"Is Beth there?"

"No, just Sam."

The handlink sat in its charger. Al grabbed it and marched toward the Imaging Chamber. "Okay, center me on Sam." The sliding door closed behind him and he readied himself for the dizzying trip to Sam. When the room stopped spinning, he saw Sam sitting next to Bingo. The lieutenant was asleep again.

Looking up at the ghostly pale Admiral Sam said, "I didn't think you'd be back."

Al didn't have anything to say. He just wanted this leap to end. The devastation of this leap, of his diagnosis, and the pain of both brought the Admiral to a point where dying felt like a step up. Finally he mumbled, "How is he?"

Sam rubbed his tired eyes. "Trying to decide whether or not he should live or die."

"Aren't we all?"

He was still not ready to consider Al's plan. "If you're here to tell me to kill you or to try and convince Bingo here that he should die, then do yourself a favor. Go back to bed. You're not looking so good."

"Please, Sam. Don't start arguing with me. We have to figure this out." His pleading voice said, "I need help."

Al admitted to needing help and Sam was more than willing to try. "Okay, ask Ziggy again why I'm here. I still haven't heard any stats from her."

"I got the stats and they make no sense."

Some news wasn't entirely news. "That's happened before. What's she saying?"

"That I'm in total control of how this leap goes.

The power of that statement really hit Sam. "Talk about responsibility."

A longtime wish had been to die simply and without drama. The complexities overwhelmed him. "I don't want the responsibility. I just want to die in peace."

"Everyone does, Al."

"Yeah, everyone does. See, you agree with me."

Sam tried to figure out Al's logic. With his brain being ravaged by a cancerous tumor, what he said couldn't be trusted. "The only thing I agree with is that dying peacefully is a good thing. I still don't think that dying in this time line makes any sense at all."

"I'm not here to argue with you."

The lieutenant stirred a bit and Sam arranged the sheet covering his patient. Without looking up at Al, he asked, "Then what did you come back for?"

The fatigue inside him brought his chin to his chest. Mostly, the Admiral just wanted to be near his friend as much as possible before cancer killed him, but he told Sam, "I haven't the foggiest notion." Dizziness whirred through his head. "Damn it, Sam, I think I'm going to die real soon and you won't get home. I let you down. I let down everyone who ever cared for me."

There was no veracity in that statement, but Al wasn't going to be convinced of that. Rather than feed the illusion or begin a debate, Sam gently offered, "Go on back to your room. You're tired. Since you're controlling the leap, I'll be here until you decide what to do." The hologram didn't move. "Al, there's only one thing to consider here, what Bingo wants, not what you want."

"What I want has never seemed to matter." He needed something to do so he played with the handlink, listening to it whistle and blip. There was no new information so he deposited the multi-colored box in his pocket. He and Sam sat together gazing at Bingo for several minutes without a word exchanged between them.

The door opened and Beth slowly came in, her eyes red from the tears. "Hi, Janie." She immediately went to Bingo, looked down at him and ran her fingers through his hair. "Has he been sleeping well?"

"He woke up a few times and we talked."

"Is he still seeing invisible men?"

"Don't think so." He looked at the Admiral, smiling, "But I am." The awkward look on his friend's face did not hearten him at all. Beth sat on the other side of Al's bed. Sam saw a magnificent exhaustion in her eyes. "How are you doing?"

"It's amazing how much I can cry when my mom is around," She smiled, a bit embarrassed, but profoundly happy Ellen and Stuart were there. "I guess you never do stop being a little girl in some ways."

"Parents come in real handy like that." His next comment was directed more toward the Admiral than Beth. "I bet you and Al are going to be a great parents."

Caressing the scarred and scared vet, she admitted her own fear, one that hadn't occurred to Sam, "With all the abuse, he might not be able to have children. Malnutrition can do that."

The idea of impotence shook the Admiral and he started punching at the handlink. "Ziggy says I'll be able to have kids, 86 percent chance."

"You never can tell, Beth. There's too much you can't know yet."

The Admiral whispered to Sam, "Ask her what she wants, Sam."

Beth couldn't have heard him, but she answered before Sam asked. "All I want is for him to be healthy enough to come home with me. It would be nice if he walked again. I'd like him to gain enough weight so that he'd be healthy. That's enough."

The simplicity of the desires surprised Sam. "I have a feeling he's going to be able to do a lot more than that."

"Well, if he could hold me in his arms again, that would be great and if we could have just one dance more, that would be enough." Her fingers gently touched small round marks on his neck. "I wonder what happened here."

Al looked at the marks, "Cigarettes. They kept putting them out on my neck." He moved closer to Beth and told Sam, "There are a lot more of those on my back and chest."

The twist in his gut almost had Sam retching. "Oh God." Beth looked over and he was caught. "I don't know, but they look like cigarette burns to me."

"Do you really think so?" When Sam nodded, Beth lowered her head to the small scars and kissed each one. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry you had to go through all that and go through it alone." The stillness of her sweet husband brought tears to her. "I want him home with me. I've waited so long. Why am I'm impatient now?"

Holding Beth's hand Sam told her, "Because you know exactly where he is and you know for certain that he's alive."

"I tried hard to believe he wasn't dead, but it was a daily battle. If it hadn't been for that one night in 1969, I would have given up completely." Sam and Al exchanged glances. Each knew what had happened, but never heard Beth's reaction. "It was the weirdest thing, Janie. I'm not really one of the cosmic types, but I swear to you, Al came to me and we danced."

The already shaky Admiral shook his muddled head, "She can't know that. It's impossible."

"I put **_Georgia_** on the record player and," a blush colored her face, "This is going to sound stupid, but I started to dance, pretending that Al was holding me. Then I really felt him there, taking me in his arms. I even felt him kiss me on my forehead." She touched the spot where the hologram blessed her with a mystical kiss five years earlier.

Sam sat quietly, "What a wonderful moment."

"It was the strangest evening in my life. Later on, I had a vision." She laughed at the statement. "A vision, can you believe it? Actually, I saw this man in the bungalow. He was nice looking, very kind eyes and he told me Al was alive and that I should wait for him. I tell you, Janie, between the dance, the kiss and the messenger from wherever, that's when I knew Al was alive and I'd have him home with me again. And when I began to doubt again, I'd think about that night and know it was just a matter of time. I didn't know it would be eight years, but I knew he'd come home to me."

His bride's story stunned the Admiral. He never imagined Beth felt his ghost dance. He walked toward his beloved soul mate wanting nothing more than to hold her, to let her know that that one impossible dance made his life worth living again. "Beth, I love you. I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like this."

The nurse turned to her sleeping husband, "You could never hurt me. I just want you to be well so that we can have a life together. I want you home."

Sam tried to figure out what was happening, but it was beyond his genius mind. Somehow, Al and Beth were communicating through a portal that had little to do with quantum mechanics. Awe took his breath away.

The Admiral beseeched, "But if I come home, I'll only make your life sad. I can't do that to you. It's better for me to die now so you can go on."

"Al, if you die, then I die. Don't you know that by now? I can never love anyone the way I love you. I wouldn't even try. Please, get well. Don't you remember our vows? We said we'd be together in sickness and in health till death do us part. I just want what we promised each other."

The Observer's breaking heart implored, "Even if it hurts you?"

"Nothing could hurt any more than these last eight years." A silent tear drifted down her cheek. "Please come home to me like you promised."

The Admiral leaned over and again graced his wife's forehead with the most tender of kisses. She looked up as if heaven had touched her again. Her care and devotion baffled him. "My beautiful Beth, why do you love me?" He truly did not understand.

She stared directly into his face, into eyes she could not see. "My world revolves around you and it always will."

The Admiral started walking away from his wife, "I don't get it."

The Lieutenant began to stir. A smile from Beth lit a fire in his heart. "Beth, don't be a dream."

Her head lay tenderly on his chest, "You're home and we'll never be apart again. I promise you."

The battered pilot reached out to his bride and brought her hand to his face. "I missed you so bad." His parched, cracked lips kissed her fingers. "Help me, please. Help me."

"Oh, Al." She put her mouth on his and kissed him with all the passion her soul held.

Sam watched the Admiral as he witnessed this most peculiar reunion. To the core of his soul, the leaper sensed Al's raw emotional pain. How and why were mysteries too impenetrable to comprehend, but they didn't matter.

But the misery the Admiral felt was more than emotional. Agony pounded into his brain. "Shit, Sam, God, my head." The pain curled him into a ball. There was no hiding the intensity of the knife stabbing into his brain. "God, please!"

The Observer's body slumped, falling into the bed holding his former self. Sam yelled, "Al!"

Then they merged. Two incarnations of Al Calavicci fused. Both screamed out intense anguish. Both clutched at their heads and wildly tried to shake out the torment splitting their brains. In tandem, Sam heard them yell, "No!" Two bodies curled into cocoons trying to fight off the specter of death coming for them.

Beth grabbed her returning hero unaware that the Admiral had incorporated into his presence. Her arms held both men and she pleaded, "Don't leave me! Don't leave me again!" The exclamation turned into a pathetic appeal, "Don't, please don't. I need you with me. I love you." In her embrace, both bodies collapsed and lay deathly still.

The beautiful nurse turned to her best friend, "Janie? Oh, God, no!" Beth started crying. Sam reached out, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing at all and his helplessness was compounded when, despite his pleading to GodTimeFateWhatever, the blue leap light encompassed him and he left San Diego, Jane O'Neill, Beth, Al and any hope for a future with Admiral Calavicci.

* * *

Sam Beckett never knew how long it was between leaps. Al once told him that it was only a day or two sometimes, but then it could be up to three weeks. This time was like the others, not a clue as to how long he'd been in stasis. The awkward opening moments of every leap were his least favorite time. However, this leap looked like it might be fun. He found himself on a children's swing set, kicking his feet straight out in front of him. Next to him was a boy about eight and behind both of them was a woman who alternately gave a little push to each child. It was a freeing kind of fun and Sam welcomed it. The last leap had been hard though he didn't know why. He didn't remember exactly what happened except that it concerned Al. Deep concentration on his uneasy feelings and the last leap finally brought back a memory that made his blood run cold. The sound of Al's last cry sounded in his mind.

His worst fears were born out when he spied the Imaging Chamber door open and a very young woman stepped out holding the handlink. Something told him Al got his wish, allowing death to free him from his pain and thereby keeping him from any happiness. Sam jumped off the swing, landing in the gravel. The lady behind him scolded, "Tony, I told you not to do that. You'll hurt yourself."

The person holding the handlink said, "That's your mother. You're Tony Gallo. You're six years old and the other boy is your big brother Joey, but not the Mafia Joey Gallo guy, thank God."

Sam looked at Tony's mom and said, "Sorry. I won't do it again." Off on the other side of the park was a small slide. "Mom, I'm going to the slide, okay?"

"Okay, but stay in sight and come back when I call you."

"Yes, ma'am." Sam signaled to the hologram to follow him.

The young girl with the handlink was very pretty, small boned, slender, long curly brown hair and huge brown eyes that had a touch of mischief in them. She eyeballed Sam and said, "It's 1982 and you're in Baltimore, Maryland. You're a cute kid, but then you're Italian. You're bound to be cute!" A little wink followed her jest.

This person was his new link to the project, but for the life of him, he didn't know her from Adam - or Eve for that matter. The best thing to do was simply come out and ask, "Do I know you?"

"Gooshie said this might happen. You don't remember me, do you?"

Sam never had to work hard at looking sheepish. It came so naturally that Al teased him about all the time. "I'm sorry, but I don't. I have to ask you something that may make even less sense."

There was something sweet, yet slightly conniving in her smile. "Go ahead."

"What happened to the guy in my last leap?"

The new Observer raised an eyebrow and said, "The guy?" It only took a flash of a second for her to realize who Sam was talking about. "Oh, I know. You mean my father."

Sam's jaw dropped and he stared at this girl. "Oh boy, you look just like him."

With a bit of a blush, but with a secret pride she said, "Yeah, people say that a lot."

Before he could get too enthused Sam had to ask, "What's your name?"

"Allie. Allegra really, but no one calls me that except Dad."

He needed to make sure they were talking about the same person. "Your father is Rear Admiral Albert Calavicci."

"Close." Allie beamed. He's Vice Admiral Calavicci, now!"

Sam laughed at the new rank, "Vice? Your father is a Vice Admiral?"

"Yeah, pretty funny, isn't it. We had a fine time teasing him when that one came down."

Sam's concern returned. He said a short prayer before asking, "Why isn't he here? Is he okay?"

A deep sigh and a sad face told Sam something was wrong. "He's doing better. He and Mom are in Albuquerque. It's a chemo day."

The last leap came back into his memory. That's what was wrong with his friend. Recalling it broke his heart and even though he didn't want to hear bad news, he asked, "What's the prognosis?"

"Everyone says it looks good. They found the tumor when it was really, really small. If Mom wasn't a nurse, I don't think anyone would have noticed a problem, but she saw it right away and made him go to the doctor." She shot Sam a duplicate of Al's sideways smile, "and you know how much he loves doctors!"

She was right on that count. Al had no use for doctors. Sam, knowing enough about cancer and chemotherapy, sympathized, "Chemo can be rough."

"He's more concerned about being bald than saluting the porcelain god for days on end."

Sam laughed out loud at this young, female duplicate of his friend. She was definitely Al's kid and probably hell on wheels. There was only one thing that bothered him. "Allie, I'm sure you're a bright kid, but why did you get chosen to be Observer? You're a little young."

"I'm 17," she protested and then had to add, "almost. Truth is I'm the best match. My neurons and mesons match up almost identically to Dad's."

"It's a lot to ask of you."

"Yeah, but this isn't going to be a hard leap and it will make one hell of a science fair report. Ziggy, Gooshie and Mom think I can handle this one. If it gets too hard, then we'll pull the power we need to get Gooshie here. Dad said he would do what he could if things got scary, but you might get too freaked out by a bald Calavicci."

Sam laughed again and before getting down to business said, "Tell your father that if he doesn't do everything he's supposed to do in order to get well, I will personally come back and kick his Vice Admiral butt."

* * *

The cancer center was as friendly a place as it could be, given its reason for existence. Al and Beth listened to music together in a treatment room. Beth curled up next to her very sick husband in the huge overstuffed recliner that was actually meant for one. They rested in each other's arms with a naturalness and serenity that belied the fearsome, angry battle the Admiral was fighting. An IV dripping highly powerful, toxic medications into his body was attached to a shunt near his right collar bone, the same place he had been shunted over 25 years earlier when he returned from Vietnam.

After a few minutes in the softly lit room, Al leaned into Beth and whispered with just the slightest concern, "We'll win this one too, won't we?"

She nestled closer, deeper into his body. There was only one answer and it was the truth. "No doubt, Al, no doubt."

**The End**


End file.
